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CRANKS' RETREAT 



A -COMEDY-DRAMA 



IN FOUR ACTS. 



V 



BY 



A PARLETT LLOYD. 

Author of "Drifting Alone'' etc., etc. 



Notice. — This Drama is printed, not published. The 
Author reserves the exclusive right of its production, and any 
infringement upon his copyright either of the title or the text, 
will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Address all 
communications, to No. 44 Lexington St., Baltimore, Md. 






Copyright 1885. . ^ mi < * 

335 
ft**- \fr 




ffWfcJHW 



BALTIMORE: 

Oliver W. Clay & Co. (limited.) 
1885. 



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7£ 



CHARACTERS. 



Henry Darrell, founder and proprietor of Cranks' Retreat. 
Junius Brutus Edwin Forrest Macready, an actor, N 
Susan B. Franchise, a masculine-feminine, 
Patrick Killpatrick, a Fenian subject, \ Cranks. 

Malakoff Czarwinski, A Nihilist, 
Oscar, the poet, J 

Tom, an unbleached American. 
Paul Sharpe, " ready for anything." 
Ernest Sutherland, a private detective, 
Donald Morton, a lawyer. 
The Manager of Prince's Theatre. 
Detective Sly. 

Mrs. Henry Darrell, the shadow of her husband. 
Judge, -\ 

Crier, V Officers of the Court. 

Prosecuting Attorney, j 
Zaidee, the sunshine of Crank's Retreat. 
Cranks, Policemen, Actors, etc. 



SYNOPSIS OF SCENERY. 

Act I. Cranks' Retreat. "You are a murderer." 

Act II. Greenroom of Prince's Theatre, Liverpool. A 

life for a life. 

Act III. A cell in the '"Old Bailey." "A lawyer is not 

needed." The Courtroom. " I am guilty." 

Act IV. Garden of Donald Morton. Darrell's Escape. 
Zaidee's love. 



CRANKS' RETREAT. 



ACT I. 

Scene. — Interior of " Cranks' Retreat." Card boards hang- 
ing on walls with these inscriptions : " Dynamite is King" 
"Death to Tyrants" " Ireland Shall Be Free" " Viva le Republic" 
etc. Table already set near centre of stage. Tom discovered 
ringing bell as curtaiyi rises. 

Tom. Dis am de last day fo' dis coon here, and don't you 
disremember it. I wasn't born to wait on cranks, and I might as 
well come to an understanding wid de boss at once. What's de 
use ob ringing dis yar bell, it only makes my poor ears feel like 
dey had drum corps in dem, and dem lunies don't pay any mo' 
'tention den if I was calling 'em to settle at de captain's office. 
Sometimes dey scare me so dat I almost turn white, 'deed I do. 
I's afeerd o' my life, an' by golly ! if I eber gets out o' dis place 
I'll start fo' Kalamazoo-zoo half an hour befo' immediately. Ah, 
here comes Mr. Killpatrick, the bloodthirsty Irish agitator. Glory, 
he looks kinder wild. [Enter Killpatrick.'] 

Killpatrick. Helloh, nager, stoupe your racket, I'm not deaf 
and dumb, do you hear ? Ah, yer black spalpeen, I'll have yer 
life. I'm a bad mun from the Castle Demicaricarikee, an' thirsty 
for gore. 

Tom. Dats' so, boss, dats so, but you wants red blood, you 
don t want nigger blood like mine. 

Killpatrick. Faith, an' that 's thrue. I must have red blood 
or none at all, at all. I want English blood. Do you hear, nager, 
English blood. Oh, but I hate England ; for eight long weary 
years I laid like a piece of dead meat in the prison of — 

Tom. Boss, you done told me dat forty-nine times befo' 

Killpatrick. Hold ye tongue, an' I will tell it to ye agin. But 
no. Vingeance is drawing near, in two weeks time the Prince of 
Wales goes to Balmoral castle, and then — 



Tom. I don't care if he goes to petticoat castle too. I— 

Killpatrick. Hush up. Don't care eh, don't care ; don't care 
when me soul has been a' sighing and a' sighing for this chance for 
years. Begorrah, Ireland shall be free. Where's Mister 
Darrell ? 

Tom. De Lord knows, I don't. But look, here's Mr. Russia- 
man, Zar-go, boss dat name'll gib me de lockjaw yet. [Enter 
Czar wins ki.~] 

Killpatrick. By St. Patrick ye're the very mun I want to 
see. I now am proud to say that I need a couple of infernal 
machines. 

Czarwinski. To dethrone some despot ? 

Killpatrick. Don't know so much about that, but I be after 
pulverizing Balmoral Castle with the Prince in it. 

Czarwinski. Ah, 'tis for the cause of freedom, then 
Czarwinski can be of service to you. Come, I will show you an 
eight day dynamical clock calculated to blow up the whole of 
England. 

Tom. Gemmen, dinner 's ready. 

Killpatrick. Be quiet, nager. Mr. Czarwinski is your 
machine safe for those who use it ? 

Czarwinski. Perfectly. ' Tis one beautiful piece of work- 
manship, on the Tomassen order, but greatly improved. The 
slightest fall will cause it to explode. Come, you shall behold it, 
you shall experiment with it. 

Killpatrick. But dinner first, food and talk with Mr. Darrell 
will give me courage. 

Czarwinski. Courage, and you need courage ? You are a 
coward. 

Killpatrick. No, but, but, I tell you, honestly loike, though 
I hate England, I — I — -kinder don't think dynamite justifiable, I — 

Czarwinski. Bah, baby-brat ! dynamite is king ; dynamite 
is the weapon of the avenger, dynamite is the all-potent engine 
before which princes tremble. Faint-hearted child that you are, 
Darrell shall hear of this. [Enter Sharped 

Sharp? . Czarwinski is right. Man oftimes becomes inspired, 
but then man is a puny creature, he needs a mighty power placed 
in his hands to carry out his inspiration. Dynamite is that power. 
Some people should be removed from earth and transported 
immediately to another sphere. Dynamite will do it. There are, 



5 

to-day, vast buildings existing which are monumental insults to 
freedom. Dynamite will remove them. Misers and railroad 
magnets have heaped up enormous riches. Dynamite will distri- 
bute it among their heirs or their lawyers. 

Czarwinski. Bravo, Mon. Sharpe, you are one great man. 
Dynamite is King. [Enter Susan B. Franchise^ A beautiful 
day, Miss Franchise. 

Susan B. How dare you sir, how dare you call me Miss ? 
You know I object to effeminate titles. 

Czarwinski. True, true, I made a miss -take y Mr. Susan. 

Susan B. That sounds better. But let me right here say a 
few words on the subject of woman suffrage. These papers 
[unwrapping a huge bundle of them\ show that women are taking 
rapid strides towards the ballot-box. Admitting, for the 
sake of argument, that all men were created equal, is not woman 
an improvement upon man ? Therefore, she is in everyway qualified 
to vote, wear pants and smoke. 

Kilipatrick. But ma'am — 

Susan B. Don't you dare interrupt me. At least let me 
open my mouth. Now, women have practised medicine and law, 
and have done all that men can do, and why should she be 
downtrodden by a parcel of brutes ? 

Czarwi?iski. I — 

Susan B. Hush up. I tell you men are doomed, I say 
doomed. Once we get the right to vote, we will wear the 
breeches and you shall have a taste of petticoats and bustles. 

Kilipatrick. ") -^ , 

„ . . . > Mercy ma am. 

Czarwinski- ) 

Susan B. There'll be no mercy for you. Men are condemned 
to suffer the tape and scissors of endless dressmakers, to have 
their hair bangled and frizzled, to use cosmetics and bandoline, to 
stay at home and mind squalling brats, to sew on buttons and 
wrestle with pots and kettles. I tell you men are doomed, 
doomed. [Enter Oscar. .] 

Oscar. Most true, and woman too, 

For woman, lovely woman 
Soon will feel our manly woes 

To battle at a cannon's mouth 
And wear a soldier's clothes, 

To take the place of garbage men, 



Or swing a blacksmith's ax, 

To man our ships, to scrub their decks, 

And sail to Halifax. 

Now, Susan B., you soon will see 

Tis true the world all over, 

For most men's life is toil and strife 

While women roll in clover. 

Susan. B. You're a fool. I'll — 

Oscar. A fool I am, a fool I be, 

And yet I am too smart for thee. 
But by the by, sweet maiden tender 

Of masculine or female gender, 
Have you seen our Zaidee fair 
I thought I saw her enter here ? 

Susan B. No, 1 haven't seen the little minx and don't want 
to, either. But to continue, there is not a question in all modern 
times more vital to our welfare than woman suffrage. I tell you, 
Mr. Czarwinski, if the Russian ladies had the right to vote there 
would be no need for either nihilism or dynamite. 

To7n. \_Aside.~] De ole woman am right dis time, and don't 
you disremember it. Woman at de ballot-box would do mo' 
damage dan dynamite, any day. [ While Susan B. talks and 
gesticulates with Czar. a?id Killp., Tom busies himself about 
table, etc., enter Zaidee with waiter filled with dishes.] 

Zaidee. Geminy, I'm tired. Tain 't much fun to be a roasting 
an' a boiling afore a red hot stove a' cooking for cranks. I was 
born for sumfing better nor that. I was born for a skating rink. 
Oh, cracky, if I could steal off sometime and get on them air 
rollers would'nt I show the boys something ! Let's see how'd they 
skate. You strut this way, then that way, then down you come, all 
for fifteen cents. But it may be a long time afore poor Zaidee gets 
a chance to show her flippers. Dad's so cross and Mam, Mam's 
worse nor the toothache. Nuffin but work for me 
Lay there, you seven year old chicken. \Slapping a dish on the 
tabled] Lay there you dried up old carrot you. [*****] 
Ah, Mr. Butter, I'm stronger nor you, get in there and if you dare 
to break that dish I'll smack you. \_Half singi?ig.~\ Oh, there's 
a spoon for Daddy, there's a fork for the old woman, there's a knife 
for P. Sharpe and there's all the rest for Oscar. Dinner's ready, 
dinner's ready, folks. \_Enter auxiliary cranks, etc. All seat 
themselves at tabled] 



Oscar. The frugal banquet waits us now, 

Let us test its tissue, 
For desert sweet Zaidee dear 
I would like to kiss you. 

Zaidee. I'll box your jaws, you fool. But I say, Dad and 
Mam are out, lets all pitch in and have a good time. 

Killpafrick. Be jabers, that we will. Shall I warble — 
Sharpe. No, for mercy's sake spare us. 

Oscar. I propose a song from the sweetest of birds 
To be sweetly sung in my beautiful words. 

All together. Yes, yes, Zaidee, a song, a song. 

Zaidee. Folks. I ain't much on a' singing, 'cos I hasn't much 
l'arnin', howsumever, I'll do my best Mr. Oscar here composed 
the words on his cuffs, so I'll have to depend on him a' leading you 
in the chorus. I'm going to tell you about dynamite. [All start to 
their feet .] Be seated I hav'nt it about me. [All the rest eat as 
she sings the following : ] 

Oh, dynamite, dynamite, blow the old world up, 
The kings and the railroads own the whole earth, 

The despots are greedy, 

The poor men are seedy, 
While O'Donovan R. rolls over with mirth, 
England and Russia yell, " Heaven defend us," 
And shake like they had the delirium tremenduous. 

Oh, princes are quaking. 

And kingdoms are shaking, 

With fear of awakening, our King Dynamite. 

Cho. 'Tis the terror of kings and friend of the devil, 
Reducing the tyrant to poor people's level. 
When a fiend we would fight 
For the sake of the right 
We've but to ignite, old King Dynamite. 

Oh, dynamite, dynamite, fain would I use thee 

To blow up the fellow who keeps down below, [Poi?iting.~\ 

Who feeds led with a spoon, 

Hot as ulsters in June, 
And roasts all his guests in a fire you know. 
If a crank could get near him, 'tis easy to tell 
There'd be a warm rumpus raised down in well, 

And sincerely we trust 

Satan 'd get up and dust 

When he'd hear the loud bust, of King Dynamite. 



8 

Clio. Oh, we'll blow up the dudes and spare all the cranks, 
We'll kill all the "sissies," and gather the thanks, 
For the feminine gender 
Whose hearts are so tender 
Will find a defender, in King Dynamite. 

[ Cranks all leave table tozvards end of song and crozvd around 
Zaidee, keeping time and singi?ig chorus very loud. N. B. Any 
other diversity might be here introduced. Enter Mr. and Mrs. 
Darrell as Zaidee finishes.'] 

Darrell. Damnation ! What's the meaning of all this 
clatter ? 

Mrs. D. Ah, its you, you good-for-nothing, worthless jade, 
{striking at Zaidee.] I'll teach you to be screaming and carrying- 
on in this way. Oh, you little wretch, I'll half kill you, I'll — 
[racing her around.] 

Darrell. That will do my dear. I'll punish her after dinner, 
not now. Leave her to me. \_Exit Zaidee^] Be seated every one 
of you. [Looks at table.] No, never mind, you have eaten 
enough, begone ! 

Oscar. Most noble chief, most royal sire, 

To eat and drink 's our great desire, 
After singing we are hungry quite, 
For scarce we ate a single bite. 

Tom. Dat's so, boss. I's a witness. Cross my breaf, dey 
ain't hardly had nothing. 

Darrell. Then they'll have to do without, 'twill teach them 
to presume upon my absence. Begone, every one ; begone, I say. 
[Exit auxilliary cranks^] 

Czarwinski. Czarwinski will not allow any man to speak 
thus to him. I must be addressed as a gentleman should be. 

Darrell. Rebelling, eh. [Aside to Czarwinski.] Czarwinski 
seems to forget Moscow, the blowing up of the Winter Palace and 
the horrors of Siberia. All right, Mr. Czarwinski, I will be more 
polite when I speak to you in future, things are coming to a pretty 
pass, when Siberian exiles, dare to — 

Czarwinski. Mercy, don't mention that — I — know I'm in 
your power, but — I — I — 

Darrell. Begone, sir, begone, I will remember this. [Exit 
Czarwinski.] 



9 

• 

Killpcttrick. Sure an' Mister Darrell you're afoine gintleman, 
an' has to be sivere at toimes, but, but couldn't you send us off 
without hollowing so. 

Darrell. Hush up, fool, I speak as I chose to English 
subjects. 

Killpatrick. Don't, don't, for heaven's sake don't speak so 
loud, ye'll be overheard. 

Darrell. Then out o' my sight. [Exit Killpatrick.~\ And 
why do you stand simpering there ? you fool. [ Turning upon 
Oscar fiercely^ 

Oscar. I simper 'cos I smile, 

To simper is my style. 

Darrell. Idiot, begone ! 

Oscar. I can't begone, for I am here, 

And if I begone, I'll be there. 

Darrell. Get out. Vamboshe the ranch. One. two, three — 
bounce ! \_Exit Oscar. Enter Zaidee] 

Darrell. [Turni?ig' fiercely upon Zaidee.~] Come here, you 
devilish brat ; for two cents I'd thrash the skin off your back. 
How dare you sing ? How dare you enjoy yourself? Haven't 
I told you about this before ? 

Zaidee. Yes, Dad, but I was only — 

Darrell. Not a word out of you. Now, remember, if I ever 
catch you idle, or even talking with any of these inmates, I'll 
thrash you within an inch of your life. Do you hear ? 

Zaidee. Yes, Dad, but I wasn't doing nothing, 'deed I wasn't, 
I— I- 

Darrell. Don't lie to me. I saw you. '* * Get to 
your work. If a very tall man should ring the bell and ask for 
me, show him right up. I have private business with him. * * 
There, stop, tell Mr. Sharpe to come here at once. [Exit 
Zaidee.~] 

* * * I fear that girl will give us trouble yet. * * * 
What a great power this Retreat is. The outside world thinks that 
I provide a home for these poor, half-witted creatures out of 
charity. Charity, the idea of me doing charity. Ha, ha. Charity 
and religion are often cloaks to cover up deeds of darkness. Now, 
here am I, known to the world as a benevolent old soul, taking 
care of a lot of insane paupers, when these paupers are the very 
source of all my wealth and power. Through them I can accom- 



10 

plish anything. I have correspondents all over the world, and 
when any of them want a dark deed done, from political threats 
to assassinations, I work upon one of these creatures until I have 
him nerved up to do the deed, then I have only to set him loose. 
In a little while I read that the work has been done, and yet my 
hands are still clean. Ha, ha, who can counteract the mighty 
influence a man holds over the world, when he has absolutely 
under his control a houseful of cranks ? 

Mrs. D. Oh, you're just a lovely man, and some of these 
days will be president of the first Irish Republic. 

Darrell. No, no, my dear, my ambition does not lie in that 
direction. Public men of to-day are constantly in too much 
danger. No man of national reputation is safe ; there are 
cranks everywhere, and if a shrewd man like me choses he can 
prey upon their imaginations until they are as clay in his hands. 
But, by the by, have you made all ready for our expected guest. 

Mrs. D. Yes, room No. 4 is vacant, he can have that. Is he 
violent ? 

Darrell. Only at times, but we must study his nature care- 
fully. I intend that he shall assist Sharpe in — 

Mrs. D. Hush, we might be overheard. 

Darrell. No danger. Ah, here's Sharpe now. [Enter 
Sharped Wife, you may retire. [Exit Mrs. D.~] Sharpe, I 
have a very important mission for you. 

Sharpe. I am ready for anything, sir. 

Darrell. [Looking carefully about to see if any danger of 
being overheard^ Tis now the fifteenth of the month, on the 
twenty-fifth the Prince's Theatre, Liverpool, must be blown up. 
Do you understand ? 

Sharpe. Perfectly, but am I to do the work ? 

Darrell No, there will be an half cracked actor here in a 
few minutes. It may be troublesome for us to sufficiently cloud 
his mind, and nerve him to the point, however, I think I am equal to 
the task. His love for the stage, and his jealousy of his rivals, 
shall be the tools I'll use. Besides, I have another means, you 
shall see what it is. I will call you in when he comes, and you 
must say yes to all the questions I ask you. Do you 
comprehend ? 

Sharpe. So far, all right. 



11 

Darrell. There is but little more. After we have him in 
proper state, I will give you all the money necessary for your 
expenses, and you can set sail at once. Remember, if you betray 
me in this matter the galleys await you. 

Sharpe. You need not remind me of that. I will do as you 
say. But, the actor — 

Darrell. Will be here in a few minutes. Please leave me to 
my own reflections. I will call you when I need you. \_Exit 
Sharped So far all works well. Let's see, {taking out newspaper^ 
yes, yes, the Premier has accepted the invitation, he will positively 
be there. Ha, ha. Now to write out a number of threatening 
editorials, and make the people believe I am tearing the very heart 
out of England. But suppose the Premier doesn't get blown up with 
the theatre, that something happens to keep him away. Ah, well, 
it doesn't make any difference to me. When the people hear of 
the calamity they will lift up their hands and say : " Darrell did it, 
Darrell did it," and that'll do me just as much good. My, won't 
the subscriptions to the Fenian fund come pouring in ? But stop, 
suppose I kill a number of helpless women and children. Bah, 
that's nothing to me. I won't be near England. I won't hear 
their groans. It will have to be done, have to be done. I must 
keep up my reputation. It's bread and butter to me. {Ring at 
bell.~] Ah, 'tis he, he comes at last. {Enter Zaidee with a card 
in her ha?id.~] 

Zaidee. Oh, Dad, I just wish you'd seen what handed 
me this. Why, Dad, its crazier than Oscar even. It looks like a 
fricasse dude plucked before 'twere ripe. " Young woman," it 
said, and it smiled till I thought its ears would fall into its mouth, 
"Young Miss, is me lord within his habitation ?" I told it I didn't 
speak French, then it said : "Is Henry Darrell, E'squire 
reposing in this superb palatial domicile, or rather can he be found 
at this period of the solar day within the precincts of these clustering 
walls ? " Oh, cracky, Dad, I had to laugh right in its face. "Yes," 
says I, with mighty big dignity, "Dad's up stairs." Then it took 
this ticket out of a pocket-book that big, {showing by gesture^ 
and told me to hand it to you with his best 'spects. but he didn't 
give them to me. 

Darrell. What ? 

Zaidee. His best 'spects. {Gesture, showing she means 
spectacles^ 



12 

Darrell. Get out with you. You've too much tongue. Tell 
the gentleman to come in. 

Zaidee. All right, Dad. \_Enter Macready ^\ Helloh, here's 
crazy now. * * Why didn't you wait, and I'd sent a 

fool-catcher after you ? 

Darrell. [ Chasing her out.~\ How dare you ? 

Zaidee. [Peeping from behind the door.~] I say, Dad, let 
me put it in my scrap book. [Exit Zaidee.~\ 

Macready. Most potent, grave and royal signor, you have 
sent for me and I have come. Wilt deign to speak to me ? 

Darrell. And your name is ? 

Macready. Junius Brutus Edwin Forrest Macready at your 
service. 

Darrell. I am most happy to meet you. Be seated, sir. 
You are, I believe, an — 

Macready. An actor. [ With strong accent on last syllable^ 
One of those unreal creatures who fret out an imaginary existence 
upon a miniature world ; who make men laugh while they themselves 
are suffering, perchance, bitter heart agonies ; who make men 
weep while they themselves feel ready to laugh ; who strut for 
a while and then make two exits, one from the unreal stage, and 
one from the great theatre — this world of ours. Yes sir, I, am an 
actor. 

Darrell. No doubt a tragedian of the old school. I think I 
have seen you in your palmy days. 

Macready. Yes — no — yes — by the ghost of Hamlet's father, 
it is — it ain't — it is — Ah, my scattered sense recall — 

Darrell. What ? 

Macready. A fearful night in midwinter, a street-scene in 
London, the whistling wind, the pelting snow, a man passing under 
the light of a lamp. I am following him. My hand is raised, I 
strike with my clenched fist, some one pushes past me, the 
man utters a cry and falls dead at my feet. Ah, why, why 
does your face recall to my shattered mind that murder in the 
snow, that cry for help ? Why does it make the image of that 
ghastly corpse rise before my conscience ? Why, because you 
are — 

Darrell. Henry Darrell, and no one else. Do not dare to 
call me any other name. 

Macready. But scoundrel, you cannot deceive me. I know 



13 

you well, and will not be silent. My brain reels, yet vividly, I 
recollect — 

DarrelL You recollect nothing. Fool, what good will it do 
you to rave about the past ? Remember, you cannot prove me 
guilty. We were both found leaning over the corpse, both yelling 
for help. You swore that I committed the murder, and I swore 
that you did it. We were both arrested, and the testimony was as 
conclusive against the one as the other. A non pros was entered 
against both, and either of us is liable to be tried again at any time. 

Macready. Yes, yes, but you know that I am innocent. 

DarrelL I know nothing, beside the man is living who saw 
you strike the blow. 

Macready. Monster, you lie! Though your hands are 
stained with blood, I hurl defiance at you. 

DarrelL Wait and you shall see. [Rings bell. Enter 
Zaidee.~] Tell Mr. Sharpe to come here at once. [Exit Zaidee.~\ 
Now sir, I will confront you with a living witness. 

Macready. Villain that you are. Though you have all the 
chicanery of lago, you cannot make me believe that there was 
anyone present but the murdered and the murderer. Why did he 
not come forward before ? 

DarrelL Because he left England before the trial and did not 
wish to be detained there. But here he is and will speak for himself. 
\_Enter Sharped Ah, Mr. Sharpe, pardon me for recalling an 
incident that is unpleasant to you, but, tell me, you were in London 
on the night of February 17th, 1872. Were you not ? 

Sharpe. Yes, sir. 

DarrelL I believe you were a witness to a murder upon that 
night ? 

Sharpe. Yes, sir. 

DarrelL You saw the assassin strike the fatal blow ? 

Sharpe. Yes, sir. 

DarrelL You were looking from a window directly over the 
spot ? 

Sharpe. Yes, sir. 

DarrelL And che murdered man's name was LordNordville, 
was it not ? 

Sharpe. Nordville — Nordville — yes, yes, that was the name. 

DarrelL And if you saw the man who committed the crime 
you would recognize him ? 



H 

Sharpe. Easily. I can never drive his murderous features 
from my memory, for I saw him so distinctly under the light of 
the street lamp. 

Darrell. [Pointing to Macready.~] Then gaze into that 
man's face. Tell me is this the man ? 

Sharpe. \_Looking at Macready scrutinizingly^\ Yes — yes — 
'tis the same, changed a little, aged a little, perhaps, but still 'tis 
the same. Ah, I can swear that man murdered Lord Nordville. 

Macready. Perjured wretch, I'll make you swallow your foul 
lie. Take that. \_Spri?igs at Sharpe but is overcome by S. and D.~\ 
Alas, I'm too weak to cope with fiends ! My poor mind is in a 
whirl. I — I — All right, Darrell, all right, I will keep silent as 
the tomb — but — but — you, scoundrel, {turning on Sharped had 
better keep out of my sight. I will not be responsible for my acts. 

Darrell. Leave us Mr. Sharpe. I think Mr. Macready will 
come to terms now. [Exit Sharped 

Macready. Terms. I make terms with you ! Wretch, how 
dare you ? 

Darrell. Be calm, sir, be calm ; you are embittered against 
me. It will be to your own interest to listen. 

Macready. No doubt you are about to propose some 
villainous scheme. 

Darrell. No. I will return good for evil. You are out of 
work, Macready ? 

Macready. Yes, and being out of work am out of pockets, 
out of sorts, and outrageously hungry. 

Darrell. Exactly, and you need a friend. 

Macready. But better money. 

Darrell. Admitted. You need both. Now, do you desire 
an engagement ? 

Macready. An engagement — -ye gods, an engagement ! 
You ask a half- starved actor, who loves his profession more than 
life, if he wants an engagement. Do famishing fish desire water ? 
Do drunkards want drink ? Do ducks swim ? Certainly. Then 
certainly do I jump at your proposal. Oh, Darrell, God bless you, 
if you secure me an engagement, whether it is to play Hamlet in 
a dime museum, or Uncle Tom to a nickel audience, I tell you 
before hand, I accept, I accept. 

Darrell. Then, Macready, old boy, I'm going to make you 
awfully happy. What do you say to playing Mercutio at the 
Prince's Theatre, Liverpool ? 



1.5 

Macready. Liverpool, Liverpool, how in the devil am I to 
get to Liverpool ? 

Darrell. I will advance you the money, you can repay it out 
of the first month's salary. 

Macready. Darrell you are an angel, here on my knees I 
thank you. I am almost starving, and here you come, like a 
heavenly messenger, and proffer me a chance to get back again 
into the profession I love. And the salary is to be ? 

Darrell. Fifty dollars a week. But come, you must have 
something to eat. I will send my girl in, you can order 
what you please. Make yourself at home, you shall be my guest 
until you sail for Liverpool and fame. 

Macready. I have not words to thank you. 

Darrell. No need, \_Aside.~] I will be amply repaid in the 
end. Now to work until he becomes as wax in my hands. [Exit.~] 
Macready. [Singing.'] 

So let the wide world jog as it will, 

I'll be gay and happy still, 

Gay and happy, gay and happy, 

I'll be gay and happy still. 

Well, this is the jolliest stroke of luck yet. Just to think, 
fifty dollars a week, and to play Mercutio, Mercutio, oh, Mercutio ! 
Won't 1 make the modern actors fret and fume with jealousy, 
when the house thunders with applause at the great death scene. 
Ah, Shakespeare surpassed himself when he tried to draw the 
character of Mercutio the merry fellow, and for that reason he 
kills him off in the third act. Right well I remember his last lines. 
Tybalt has stabbed him. Mercutio reels and gasps: "I am 
hurt. 

A plague o' both the houses ! I am sped. 
Is he gone, and hath nothing ? " 

Then Benvolio inquires — 
"What, art thou hurt ? " 
Mer. "Ay, ay, a scratch ; marry, 'tis enough. 

Where is my page ? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon." 
Romeo. "Courage, man ; the hurt cannot be much." 

Mer. " No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church 
door; but, 'tis enough, 'twill serve. Romeo, thou hast been wont 
to call me a merry fellow. Ask for me to-morrow, and you shall 
find me a grave man. I am peppered, 1 warrant, for this world . 
A plage o' both your house ! Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, 



16 

to scratch a man to death ; a braggart, a rogue, a villain, that 
fights by the book of arithmetic ! Why, the devil, came you 
between us ? I was hurt under your arm." 

Romeo. " I thought all for the best." 

Mer. " Help me into some house, Benvolio, 

Or I shall faint. A plage o' both your houses ! 

They have made worm's meat of me. 

I have it, and soundly too : Your houses ! 

[Enter Zaidee as he finishes^ 

Zaidee. Say, old man, you got 'em bad ! 

Macready, Come hither, child, come hither. 

Zaidee. Nixey, scare-crow, nixey, I'm afeerd o' you. 

Macready. Fear me not, little one ; I may seem strange to 
your poor, finite mind, but I'm all right here. [Pointing to his 
hearty Though rny exterior be rough my interior is as smooth 
and placid as rippling brooklets flowing over nuggets of silver. 
Yes, yes, while my mind is decidedly eccentric, my heart is warm 
and generous. 

Zaidee. Old man, I believe you. There's my hand on it. 
But, own up, you do look kinder crazy, now don't you ? 'Fess ? 

Macready. Judging from a worldly standpoint, perchance 1 
do, but Seneca tells us "there is no genius free from some tincture 
of madness." 

Zaidee. Then you must have taken lots of the tincture. 

Macready. Yes, I — I am a genius, as Horace says : 
"Underneath this rough, uncouth disguise 
A genius of extensive knowledge lies." 

Zaidee. Give us a rest on that. Dad sent me up here to ax 
you what you want to eat. 

Macready. \_Surprised.~] Who sent you ? 

Zaidee. Why, Dad, of course. 

Macready. Do you mean Henry Darrell ? 

Zaidee. Yes, certainly, I do, he's my Dad, and Mam, she's 
my Mam. 

Macready. Little girl, how old are you ? 

Zaidee. What's that to you ? It's none of your business, sir ! 

Macready. I must know. Do you hear, its important ! 

Zaidee. Do you want to know my really age, or the age I 
generally cod folks with ? 

Macready. Your real age, of course. 

Zaidee. Don't know 'zactly, but think about seventeen. 



17 

Macready. Just as I thought. Then, child, Henry Darrell is 
not your father. 

Zaidee. You're a fool. Guess I ought to know my own 
father. After awhile you'll be telling me, that you're my grand- 
mother's aunt ? You can't stuff me, Mr. Luny. 

Macready. But listen, child. Seventeen years ago, Henry 
Darrell and I were boon companions. I knew him then by 
another name. We were always together, and I know he never 
had any children. Why, he was not married until 1875. 

Zaidee. 1875? Let's see, {counting on fingers,] one, two, 
three, four, seven, nine, ten years ago. Yes, that was the year I 
first saw Mam. 

Macready. Exactly. After he married her he brought her 
home and passed her off to you as your mother. Come, tell me, 
little one, do you feel towards this man you call " Pap," and this 
woman you call "Mam," that degree of immeasurable affection 
which is born in every child for its parents ? 

Zaidee. I don't know what you mean. In course I love 
Mam. I— 

Macready. But hush ! Do you love her so that her very 
name awakens the sleeping harp within your heart, and makes it 
chant sweet anthems of a child's devotion ? Do you feel for her 
a boundless love which time can never tame ? Answer me. Do 
you have a gentle, delightful, greatful, can't-be-described emotion 
when you think, of her ? 

Zaidee. Look here, Mr. Man, if you're going to have one 
o' your spells, I'll git. 

Macready. Fear me not. Can you not recall something of 
the days of your babyhood ? Listen, did you ever hear a sweet 
little song, which sounds something like this : \_Si?iging soft and 
low.~\ 

" Slumber and dream in the morning of life, 
Dream of the pathway before thee, 
Let not each hour with sorrow be rife, 

Happiness, too hovers o'er thee — 
Life thus is checkered with sunshine and sorrow, 

Dark may the day be, but brighter the morrow, 
Then never be impatient," etc. 

[Mendelssohn 's cradle song."] 

Zaidee. Yes, yes, oh yes ! Oh, it all seems like a most 
delightful dream. While you were singing, I pictured to myself a 



18 

wee little girl kneeling before a trundle bed repeating an evening 
prayer ; her beautiful mother leaning over her, stoops down and 
kisses her ; the little girl hops into bed, and the mother sings her 
to sleep with that beautiful song. How strange, how sweet, 
how — 

Macready. Yes, yes, but keep the picture before your 
mind. Do you not recognize that mothers' face. Look — 

Zaidee. No — no tain't Mam. Mam never thought of singing 
to me. The lady in my dream is so lovely, so — I 'speck she's an 
angel. 

Macready. You are right, my child, she is an angel now ; 
but — but — then — then she was your mother. 

Zaidee. Oh, don't — don't say that, you'll make me cry. Oh, 
if Mam only was like that, how I'd love her. Geminy I'd wan't 
to kiss and hug her all the time ! No, Mister, it's well enough for 
poor Zaidee to dream about such nice things, but in real life there 
is nothing for her but abuse. Oh, sir, Mam never speaks a kind 
word to me, and if I had as many dollars as she gives me blows 
I'd be awfully rich. See my arm, [laying bare her ar?n,] see there 
that great big bruise, Mam gave me that. 

Macready. The cruel wretch ! [Looking at her arm intently.] 
But, Zaidee, what's this — this peculiar red mark ? 

Zaidee. You mean that little thing? Why that's always 
been there. 

Macready. [Aside.] No doubt it is a birth mark. I'll 
remember that : Strawberry mark on right arm above the elbow. 
[Aloud.] Now go, little girl, get me something to eat, and quickly 
too. Let's see, what will I have ? Well, since I've struck luck, I 
must have a meal fit for the gods. Go, order me tripe, yes, fried 
tripe and onions — boiled; five eggs, some beans — Boston baked, 
mind you, some cheese, child, Limburger cheese — 'good and 
strong, and let me wind up with plum pudding. 

Zaidee. Golly, it'll take some time to prepare that, but, I'll 
give the order all the samee'. Tripe, onions, eggs, beans, cheese 
and pudding. I'll make no mistake. [Exit Zaidee.] 

Macready. There's not the slightest doubt in my mind but 
that she's Lord Nordville's child. Poor fellow, the mere mention 
of his name sends cold creeps through me. How often have I 
been welcomed into his household, and what a happy home that 
was, too ! How he loved his bright eyed baby daughter ! When 
I'd go there, I used to find him with her upon his knee playing like 



19 

children together. What a lovely lady his wife was, so sweet and 
so unpretending. She never hesitated to receive me as. though I 
were the most titled nabob in the land instead of an humble actor. 
And yet I quarrelled with such a man ; angered by an imaginary 
insult and excited by drink, I struck him as I would a cur. My head 
is dazed when I think of it. Ah, Darrell spoke truly, 'twas under 
the street lamp that I rushed at him. But, before God, I only struck 
him with my fist ! Some one pushed past me. I heard an oath, 
and then I cried for help, for suddenly I realized that I was kneel- 
ing over a corpse. A man was beside me, a man I had always 
known and trusted as my friend, and that man was he who now calls 
himself Henry Darrell. He looked the fiend incarnate. I accused 
him of murdering Lord Nordville and he accused me. I know that I 
am innocent, but stop, I was drunk ! I was for the time being insane ! 
Oh heavens, suppose I did have something in my hand, suppose 
I did kill him ! The thought is driving me mad. If I am a 
murderer the law shall have my life. " A life for a life." I will 
not live with the blood of such a man crying out against me. Once 
in England I will give myself up. But — but his child here, here 
in Darrell's house. What can it, — what does it mean ? \_E?iter 
Sutherland.'] 

Sutherland. I beg your pardon, but is your name 
Macready ? 

Macready. I have the honor of being known by that name. 

Sutherland. I came all the way from England to find you. 

Macready. Indeed. No doubt then you are connected with 
the Prince's Theatre, Liverpool ? 

Sutherland. You are mistaken, sir. [ Watching Macready 
very intently.'] My business with you is so very pressing that I 
followed you here. 

Macreaay. Well. What for ? 

Sutherland. Simply to show you this knife. [Handing him 
a rusty looking knifed] 

Macready. [Grabbing it,] Heavens, man, where did you 
find this ? 

Sutherland. Never mind that for the present. So you recog- 
nize the knife. I did not think you would fail to do so, as your 
name is engraved upon the handle ! Do you notice those stains 
upon the blade ? 

Macready. Yes, yes, speak out man, what are they ? 






Sutherland. They are blood, Lord Nordville's blood. 
Did you know Lord Nordville ? 

Macready. I — I — yes — I knew him well, and loved him, too. 

Sutherland. No doubt. \_Aside.~] The same species of love 
that Cain had for Abel. [Aloud.] But did you not have a quarrel 
with him on the night of February 17, 1872, the evening he was 
murdered ? 

Macready. Yes, yes, but 'twas only a little dispute, only a 
little — 

Sutherland. Yet your little dispute angered you enough to 
make you follow him. 

Macready. How do you know that ? 

Sutherland. I guessed it. But, hold on, you did more, you 
struck at him with that knife in your hand, — in other words you 
deliberately murdered him. 

Macready. You lie. I — 

Sutherland. Wait, I can prove all I say. This knife was 
found in an alley-way near the spot. You were caught bending 
over the corpse, and, hold on, as you crossed Fleet street, while 
following him, you were heard to mutter : " Nordville, it is your 
life or mine." 

Macready. Mercy, man, mercy ! You are driving me mad. 

Sutherland. My mission is not to arrest the murderer, for 
that would be useless, a man cannot be tried twice for the same 
offense, but to discover, if possible, whether Lord Nordville's 
daughter, who disappeared on the night of the murder, is still 
living. 

Macready. Do you mean to tell me that his child was 
stolen ? 

Sutherland. Double-faced scoundrel ! You know that as 
well as I do. Come now, own up, where is she ? What did you 
do with her ? 

Macready. I — I didn't — 

Sutherland. It's no use trying to play that game on me. 
Speak out, man. Have you killed her ? No ? Then, for Heaven's 
sake, tell me where she is ! You can't fool me by some impostor, 
for I have here a memorandum of a peculiar birth mark which will 
identify her beyond all doubt. \_Enter Zaidee with dishes.] 

Macready. Yes, yes a strawberry mark on the right arm 
above the elbow. 



21 

Zaidee. [Aside.'] They must be talking about me. 

Sutherland. Just as I thought. I'm on the right track, and 
Lord Nordville's daughter is — 

Macready. [Pointing to Zaidee .] Standing right there. 
\_Sutherla7id rushes at Zaidee and grabs her by arm, tryi?ig to 
look.] 

Zaidee. Don't you dare touch me, I'll yell for Dad. 

Macready. Don't please don't, there's a nice young lady. 
Just show this gentleman your arm to oblige me, he won't hurt 
you. 

Zaidee. {Shows arm.] All right then, if that'll do you any 
good. Cracky, after awhile my arm will become more of a 
curiosity than the tattooed lady's down at the "ten cent dime." 

Sutherland. [Exanwiing arm and comparing it with 
description in note book.] By George, I'm in luck ! There can be 
no doubt of it. This is the heiress of Lord Nordville. 

Zaidee. Look a' here, young man, if Dad comes in and 
catches you a' standing there a' feeling my arm he'll make things 
awful hot for you. 

Sutherland. [To Macready.] "Dad," who in the devil 
does she mean by "Dad ? " 

Macready. [Aside to Sutherland^] She refers to Darrell, 
the man who owns this place. It must have been he who stole her. 
He has taught her to believe that he's her father. You must deal 
cautiously with him, and not let him know that you are on her 
track. What do you propose to do ? 

Sutherland. [ To Macready^] I must get her to England 
someway or other. Will Darrell consent ? 

Macready. [ To Sutherland?] Never, but give me your 
card, [Sutherland hands him card,] and I think I can manage to 
have her at your office by to-morrow, ready and willing to go 
any where. 

Sutherland. Something seems to tell me that I can trust you, 
but beware trying to deceive me. [Exit Sutherland.] 

Zaidee. Say, cully, what're you an' that air slick looking 
chap a' talking about, anyway ? 

Macready. Oh, nothing, that is, nothing particular. You 
know he's a — a — [Aside.] Dang it, what is he? [Aloud.] He's 
a, oh yes, a theatrical manager. 

Zaidee. [Rushing to door and calling loudly \] I say, you, 



22 

come back here, come back here, I say. I'll fetch him. [Starts 
to go.] 

Macready. {Stopping her.] Why, what in the world's the 
matter ? 

Zaidee. [Half cryi?ig.] I hate you ! Now he's gone, he's 
gone, and I didn't say anything to him. You're a nasty, horrid 
thing for stopping me. 

Macready. But why, child, are you so anxious ? 

Zaidee. You crazy goose. Why ? Why, 'cos he's a 
manager. I'm just dying to talk to a real real live manager. Oh, 
Mr. Macready if you only knew how r I love anything or anybody 
who has something to do with the stage * * Oh, say, 
you're an actor. Ain't it awful nice ? 

Macready. [Aside.] Here's luck, maybe she's stage struck. 
[A loud.] Oh, it is a charming life. [Aside.] Heaven forgive 
me. [Aloud.] Just to think we play night after night, amid 
thunders of applause ; we feel, we know that every ear in our 
vast audiences is strained to catch each word we utter. We are 
heroes, courted and adored by an admiring and appreciative 
public. Yes, yes it is a fine thing to be an actor. 

Zaidee. Oh, how I would love to go on the stage ! 

Macready. You would ! Then you are just the little girl 
Mr. Sutherland is looking for, only — - 

Zaidee. Only, what ? 

Macready. You would have to go to England, his theatre is 
over there. 

Zaidee. Why, I'd go anywhere. Just think, would'nt I 
make a stunner ? I'd just set the boys crazy. 

Macready. Indeed you would, and in a few years you'd be at 
the head of the profession. [Aside.] Commencing backward. 

Zaidee. Do you really, really think so, and will you see the 
gentleman for me ? Oh, please promise me to ! 

Macready. But how about Mr. Darrell ? 

Zaidee. Oh, you mean old Dad. I don't care that for him. 
[S?iapping her fingers^] If you think the manager will take me, 
I'll play hookey to-night, and no one will be the wiser. 

Macready. Do you really mean it ? 

Zaidee. In course I do. Ain't I been a' sighing and 
a' sighing for this opportunity all my born days ? What ! 
is that his card you have in your hand ? [Grabbing it.] Goodbye, 
old luny, I'm going to see the manager, goobye. My, won't Dad 



23 

and Mam rare and pitch, but I don't care, I'll soon be an 
actress. Tra-la-la- la. [Exit Zaidee.] 

Macrcady. Well, here's a go. Immortal Shakespeare, who'd 
have thought that the little one would have done precisely as I 
wanted her to do without so much as a suggestion ! I wonder how 
all this will end ? Ah, here come Darrell and his tribe. [Enter 
Mr. and Mrs. Darrell, and all the cra7iks.~\ 

Darrell. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Mr. Junius 
Brutus Edwin Forrest Macready, an actor of wonderful ability, 
and who is destined to be the leading light of the Prince's Theatre, 
Liverpool. I want you all to welcome him into our Retreat. 
Before he is initiated into our order and I administer to him the 
ironclad oath of secrecy, I would like you all to state our object 
in life. 

All together. Death to tyrants ! 

Darrell. Exactly. Let me say that the profession he 
adorns is one of the noblest in the world and nothing would make 
me prouder or happier than to have my own child, be it a son or a 
daughter, upon the stage. For it is the great centre of genius and 
talent. But, by the way, where is Zaidee, the little wretch, she's 
always around ? Have any of you seen her ? 

All together. No, no. 

Macready. I have. 

Darrell. Then where in the deuce is she ? 

Macready. Your ambition, sir, has been fulfilled, she has 
gone to be an actress. 

Curtain. 



24 



ACT II. 

Scene. — Greenroom of Prince 's Theatre, Liverpool. Stage 
well cleared. Wings ope?i to left. A safe right of stage. 

[Enter Macready and Sharpe.] 

Sharpe. Here we are at last, and a charming theatre 
'tis, too. 

Macready. Ye gods, my ambition hath sighed for just such 
a place. Ah, Sharpe, I will bless you all the days of my life. 

Sharpe. Tut, tut, I am only doing DarrelPs bidding, save 
your gratitude for him. 

Macready. Noble fellow, I will never be able to do enough 
to repay him. But come, now that we have become friends and 
understand each other thoroughly, I want to ask you a very 
serious question, and I desire a frank, and honest answer ; tell me 
where you in earnest when you acknowledged, before Darrell, that 
you saw me murder Lord Nordville ? Speak out, man, speak out 1 

Sharpe. I — I — that is — 

Macready. In heaven's name, do not hesitate. Oh, say that 
it was not so, that you said it for some reason known only to 
yourself and Darrell, and that it was not true. 

Sharpe, But, I — I cannot say that. For my sake, Macready, 
do not revert to that fearful night, it will make me hate you. 

Macready. Why ? 

Sharpe. Because 1 shrink from you with horror when I think 
of it. Would that I could drive the terrible memory from my 
mind, for you — you are a murderer ! 

Macready. Then it is true, 'twas I who struck the fatal blow. 
Merciful heavens you will drive me mad ! I, a murderer and yet 
free ! Surely justice is dead when such a wretch as I, is allowed 
to go unpunished. Look you here, Paul Sharpe, my life belongs 
to the law, I will give myself up, and expiate my crime upon the — 

Sharpe. Upon the gallows. 

Macready. Yes, let a felon have a felon's death. Oh, to 
think that in a fit of drunken frenzy 1 should kill my best friend ! 
There, there, look ! I see his ghastly corpse staring me in the face, 
his blood cries aloud for vengeance. Ten thousand demons seem 
crying : "begone, murderer, begone." 



25 

Sharpe. Calm yourself, Macready, calm yourself, remember 
we came here to make professional arrangements. 

Macready. Calm, how dare you tell me to be calm, calm ? 
when my hands have been steeped in the blood of my own friend ! 
Bah, I will not be calm until I stand at the bar of justice a convicted 
felon, until the judge pronounces the sentence of death so justly 
merited, until I hear the prison bolts clink behind me ; no, not 
even then, or when I stand upon the gallows before a gaping, 
mocking crowd, and the executioner springs the trap from under 
me, after that maybe, maybe in eternity I will find peace. No, 
no, not even then — 

Sharpe. [Aside.] Darn it, I didn't expect him to goon that 
way. I must do something to quiet him. [Aloud.'] I say, 
Macready, bear up, be brave, play Mercutio to night, and after 
that then, then give yourself up, if you are fool enough to do so. 
It will be a greater sacrifice for you to leap from fame into a prison 
cell, but I feel sure that you are equal to the ordeal. 

Macready. You are right, always right, I will accept this 
engagement. You say the Premier of Great Britain is to be here 
to-night ? 

Sharpe. Yes, he is expected. 

Macready. I will do my best, do you hear, my best ! This 
old theatre shall fairly ring, there shall not be a dry eye in the 
house when I come to the death scene. For I will have the grim 
monster ever before me. 

Sharpe. Bravo, old boy, bravo ! 

Macready. 'Tis truly a golden opportunity, I shall achieve 
the object of my ambition, and at the same time give life for life. 
Ah, the greater man becomes in this world of ours the greater is 
his fall when death comes and levels him as low as the humblest 
pauper. Sharpe, you will be in the audience to-night ? 

Sharpe. Yes, oh yes. [Aside.] In a horn. 

Macready. Then you will see what remorse can do. You 
will see me sink from the highest pinnacle of fame to the lowest 
depth of misery and dejection ; you will see — 

Sharpe Yes, but Macready, you know these managers are 
queer chaps, suppose he should want to favor somebody else and 
try to back out from the engagement he made with Darrell ? 

Macready. But Darrell assured me it was all settled. Great 
goodness, man, you don't mean to say there's a doubt about it ! 



26 

Sharpe. No, but, you know, you were not here at the 
rehearsal this morning. 

Macready. That was because you stopped me from coming. 

Sharpe. True enough, I didn't think 'twas necessary. The 
manager, however, might think otherwise and have engaged 
somebody else. 

Macready. Zounds, if he has done that I'll soon make him 
understand that I am no child to be played with. 

Sharpe. And if he has the face to deliberately deny that he 
had engaged you, what would you do ? 

Macready. The miserable wretch, why I don't know, I'd 
feel tempted to, to — 

Sharpe. Don't make too rash a threat, you know you'd be 
afraid to — 

Macready. Afraid, me afraid 1 

Sharpe. Yes, you'd say : " Beg your pardon Mr. Manager, 
its all a mistake, I'm awfully sorry." 

Macready. Don't enrage me too much, or I'll show you the 
kind of a man I am. If I should be disappointed to-night I will 
become desperate, and no one knows what my desperation might 
drive me to. 

Sharpe. Bah, Macready, you may be hot tempered, but you 
are not quick enough. Do you know what I would do if I were 
you, and this manager would dare insult me ? 

Macready. No. What ? 

Sharpe. I'd blow his whole theatre up. 

Macready. How ? What's that you say ? 

Sharpe. Can it be possible you have not heard df the 
wonderful avenger, King Dynamite ? 

Macready. Of course I've heard of it. Scientists and others 
say that it is terrible, and there is no limit to its power of 
destruction ? 

Sharpe. Depends upon how much you use. A pint placed 
in one of Czarwinski's machines would not more than kill one 
man, but a quart would blow this whole building to atoms. Ah, 
dynamite is more subtle than poison, more certain than a pistol's 
ball, surer than a sword's thrust, swifter than a — 

Macready. Enough ! This talk is folly. Let's change the 
subject. I feel sure the gentleman will be only too happy to wel- 



27 

come me. [Enter call boy.'] Ah, here, call boy, take this card to 
the manager and tell him I await his coming. \_Exit call boy.~] 

Sharpe. Have you never interested yourself in the subject of 
explosives ? 

Macready. Certainly, but it is only of late that dynamite has 
been employed for political vengeance. 

Sharpe. True enough, but the idea is an old one. Recollect 
the Gunpowder Plot of Guy Fawkes early in the seventeenth 
century. The only difference is that dynamite is so much more 
powerful. Ah, if you were an Irishman you would know how the 
people of the Emerald Isle are downtrodden by the tyranny of 
England. 

Macready. I am an Irishman, sir, by descent, and I would 
have you understand that I'm not in the least in sympathy with 
this government. The use of any weapon is justifiable by the 
oppressed people of either Ireland or Russia to free themselves 
from despotism. 

Sharpe. Give me your hand on that. You're a man after my 
own heart. Ah, if I were fixed as you are now, caring nothing for 
my life, I wouldn't hesitate — I'd — I'd — 

Macready. What would you do ? 

Sharpe. I'd blow up this whole shebang. Don't start but 
listen : The Premier, who is in reality the head of this tyrannical 
government, will be here to-night. He is a miserable pretentious 
nabob, and if someone would have the bravery to blow him up, 
that someone would become a martyr for the holy cause of 
Ireland ; his name would blaze upon history's pages as a hero, and 
who knows might lead to the freedom of the land of shamrock. 
England is stronger than Ireland and for that reason to fight her 
successfully, the latter is compelled to resort to the most powerful 
weapons. 'Tis war to the death, and all's fair in war, you know. 
But here comes the manager, he's celebrated for toddying after 
royalty. For gracious sake don't let him know there is Irish blood 
in your veins it may predjudice him. 

Macready. Bah, I am too proud to conceal it. [Enter 
Manager^] 

Manager. [Disdainfully^] What is it you desire of me, my 
good fellows ? 

Macready. [Aside.] Witness Jupiter, he takes us for 
supes ! [Aloud.'] I sent you my card, sirrah. 



28 

Manager. But I fail to recall your name. Be good enough 
to state your business. 

Sharpe. [Aside to Macready^] 'Tis just as I told you, he's 
going to make out he never engaged you, [aside to audience^] 
which is true. [Aloud.] My dear sir, Mr. Macready here, is the 
gentleman whom you engaged through Mr. Darrel in America to 
play Mercutio, 

Macready. Yes, yes, I'm the man. 

Manager. Darrell ! America ! I engaged a man to play 
Mercutio, why this is preposterous, I did nothing of the kind. 

Macready. You lie, you did. Darrell said — 

Manager. What do I care what Darrell, or anyone else said,. 
I never even heard of such a man? You're a pair of impostors. 
I'll have you to understand that the Prince's Theatre does not 
employ half-rate actors at hap-hazard. Get out of this or I'll — 

Macready. You'll what ? 

Manager. I'll have you put out. Such presumption is 
unheard of in England. Begone ! 

Macready. You are a cur and lack the first elements of 
manhood. We will leave your theatre, sirrah, but as sure as the 
stars shine you will hear from me again. Beware ! you have 
wronged me and you shall pay dearly for this. I will either play 
Mercutio to-night, or — 

Manager. [Pointing to the door.] Begone, or I'll call an 
officer. [Exit Sharpe and Macready, the latter muttering as he 
leaves : "I'll show the wretch what it costs to trifle with me."] 

Manager. In all my managerial career I never saw the like 
of that before. The idea, an unknown man coming to me fifteen 
minutes before the curtain goes up upon an important night like 
this and insisting upon playing Mercutio. Ha, ha, this is too 
ridiculous for anything. * * Yet somehow or other I 

like that fellow, what's-his-name ? [looking at card,] oh, yes, 
Junius Brutus Edwin Forrest, ha, ha, face ever so much, but I 
distrust the other. [ Taking out 7vatch.] Dear me, it's a quarter 
to eight and my little protege hasn't yet arrived. She's going to 
make a charming actress. How I wish I could have given her a 
more important part than the nurse. The idea of a mere child 
playing Juliet's nurse. Well, novelties are in demand now-a-days, 
and she certainly must be the youngest person who has ever 



29 

attempted it. There is no other character I could have cast her 
for. Some of these days she'll make a bewitching Juliet. What 
a pity her education has been so neglected. Everything must pass 
off smoothly to-night, my reputation and fortune are in the balance 
for the Premier will surely be here. There's one great consolation 
I certainly have the strongest cast that has ever attempted the 
play, and there ought to be an ovation. [Enter Zaidee and 
Sutherla?id.~\ 

Zaidee. Oh, am I in time, Mr. Manager ? Am I in time ? 

Manager. Yes, my child, just in time. 

Zaidee. That's hunki-dori ! Jolly, but I'm glad ! Mr. 
Sutherland detained me, or I'd been here lots sooner. We had 
to run all the way. My, I'm out of breath ! 

Sutherland. You will have plenty of time to regain it. You 
do not go on until the third scene, I believe ? 

Zaidee. No, but then, little foolie, don't you know I've got 
to dress. Ah, I say, Mr. Manager, I just hate this part you've 
given me. The idea of 'specking me, a young girl, to play an old 
woman, an' nurse a big baby like Juliet. I guess she's twice as old 
as I am, leastways she looks it. 

Manager- My child it could not be helped. Mr. Sutherland f 
who is my warmest friend, insisted that I should give you a trial, 
and this was the only chance. I admit it does not suit your tender 
years. Juliet would be just the thing. 

Zaidee. You're a delightful old bald-headed flatterer and I'd 
just like to kiss you if you weren't so ugly. Look a'here, Mr. 
Sutherland, 'spose you were Romeo, wouldn't I make a daisy in 
the balcony scene, peeping over kinder cross-eyed at you ? My 
heart takes a flip-flop when I think of it. But I'll have to let it 
flop, for here goes to get onto my togs. [Exit Zaidee.~\ 

Manager. Sutherland you've found a prize in that girl, some 
of these days she'll be a leading star. 

Sutherland. No doubt, if she remains in the profession, but 
do you know she's an heiress ? 

Manager. The deuce you say. And you didn't tell me. If 
I'd known that I'd have given her Juliet's lines and advertised her 
well. 

Sutherland. No doubt you would, and for that reason I said 
nothing of it to you. She has fallen desperately in love with the 
stage and I am just as desperately in love with her. If I can only 



30 

disgust her with the profession maybe I'll have some chance for 
part of her affections. When I succeed in proving her identity I'll 
startle her by ushering her into her home of luxury. 

Manager. Ah, then she does not know she is an heiress. 
Sutherland. No — and I intend to break it to her gently. 
Manager. But not until you have won her heart — ha ! ha ! 
Sutherland. I'll not breathe a word of love to her until she 
knows exactly who she is and who I am. 

Manager. No matter if she be an heiress, she'll have to have 
a huge pile to lay down dollar for dollar with you. The boys say 
;£ 100,000 don't cover your wealth. But hello — listen — there's the 
orchestra playing. I say, call boy ! [goes to side and looks'] 
Packed, jammed, a splendid house, the Premier's among them 
[Enter call boy] Are all on time ? 

Call boy. All except Mr. Barnes. 

Manager. Hasn't he come yet? I wonder what detains 
him ? Here boy, run — run to his hotel — quick, and find out what's 
the matter. [Exit call boy.'] Gracious goodness ! [Getting excited.] 
If anything has happened what will I do ! There's not a man in the 
company that can play the lines — except Barnley, and he's 
Romeo, and on at the same time. Excuse me, Sutherland, some- 
thing will have to be done — there — there, up goes the curtain — 
good heavens ! [Exit Manager very much excited^] 

Sutherland. I wouldn't be a manager for all the money in the 
world. [Great ?wise outside; voice: "I tell you, gentlemen, this is 
the green room you can't come in." Second voice: "I tell you we 
must — we've got to see the manager." "But you shant" — ' I shall," 
etc.] [Enter Darrell, Kilpatrick, Franchise, Oscar and Czar- 
winski, auxiliary cranks in si?iglejile.] 

Darrell — [turning his back to Sutherland] Pardon me, sir, 
until I call the roll [Calls] Patrick Killpatrick — [Killpatrick] "here 
am 1 suh," Oscar Wilde — " here;" Priscilla Sarsparilia — "present;" 
MalakofT Czarwinski — "here," etc. You see, sir, I'm of a charitable 
disposition. I take care of these poor creatures, providing for them 
a comfortable home — 

Sutherla?id. Yes, I know all about your charity. 
Darrell. By George, it's Ernest Sutherland ! How came 
you here ? I didn't recognize you, I am so surprised. 



31 

Sutherland. No doubt, but what are you doing in England ? 

Darrell. I might ask you the same question. 

Sutherland. My home is here. 

Darrell. Well, I came over because some one has stolen my 
daughter. I have tracked that some one here and I know 
where that some one is. 

Sutherland. Glad of it — for you are the very man "that some 
one" wants to see. I notice you've brought your family. 

Darrell. Yes, I didn't think it safe to leave them in 
America, besides I'm going to start a Retreat in London. The 
crank business is played out in the States. Too much competi- 
tion. [Enter Manager tearing his hair with excitement^] 

Manager. Barnes has not come, has not come ! What will 
we do ! The first scene is half over. There Tybalt is fighting 
Benvolio. Oh, why don't he come. I say you, fellow, [to Darrell~\ 
can't you take Barnes' place, for Heaven's sake can't you ? 

Darrell. I'm not an actor. 

Manager. Then what in the devil are you doing here ? 
[ Turning to cranks in turn.'] Can't you, or you, or you ? [Rush- 
ing off.~] Heavens, I am ruined ! 

Darrell. Well, that's about the craziest crank I've seen yet. 
I wonder if he wants to come to my retreat ? 

Sutherland. That's not a crank, it's the manager. 

Oscar. Same thing — same thing. 

Darrell. Hush up ! The Manager, the deuce you say ! 
then he can restore to me my daughter, my darling Zaidee. She 
is here. 

Sutherland. Yes, Zaidee is here, but your daughter is not. 

Darrell. What do you mean ? 

Sutherland. I mean the young lady whom you called your 
daughter was no more yours than mine, and that you stole her. 

Darrell. How dare you. Is there anything more that you 
mean ? 

Sutherland. Nothing particular, only that I intend to restore 
her to her family. 

Darrell. Bah, you cannot prove her identity. 

Sutherland. I'll see about that. But it's useless for you to 
loiter here. Good day, sir; good- day. {bowing him out.] 

Darrell. I'll have you to understand that Henry Darrell 



32 

is no man to be trifled with. I will not leave this theatre till I have 
seen — [Enter Zaidee dressed far nurse in Romeo and Juliet^ 

Zaidee. Your darling daughter.- 

DarrelL And who are you old woman ? 

Miss Franchise. One of us women suffragists I'll warrant. 

Oscar. Fine specimen of an antique. 

Killpatrick. Begorrah ! it looks like me poor ould mother. 

Zaidee. [Quoting from Nurse in R. and f] "Marry, fare- 
well. I pray you sir, what saucy merchant was this, that was so 
full of his roguery ?" [Barrel/, aside ; "Evidently off."] 

Sutherland. "A gentleman, Nurse, that loves to hear himself 
talk; and will speak more in a minute than he will stand to in a 
month." 

Zaidee. [Still quoting^ "An 'a speak anything against me 
I'll take him down an 'a were lustier than he is, and twenty such 
Jacks; and if I cannot, I'll find those that shall. Scurvy Knave ! I 
am none of his flirtgills; I am none of his skain-mates; and thou 
must stand by too and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure ? 
[ Turning upon Darrell.'] Hold still, miscreant, until I strike thee j 

Darrell. I'm in a lunatic asylum this time, sure. I'll stop in 
again Suther — 

Zaidee. Don't go, Dad, don't go; and didn't yer know your 
young un ? 

Darrell. What, Zaidee, my child, my child! [throwing his 
arms around her \] 

Zaidee. Yes, yours truly ! Get onto my togs ! You needn't 
look kinder shamed at me. I'm fly. 'Way up. Shebang I 
Wouldn't leave stage for twice the money to stay home. Oh 
Dad, please don't make me quit ! 

Darrell But Zaidee, dear, your poor mother — 

Zaidee. Oh Mam'll get along very well without me — least- 
wise, she always did. [ Turning to Oscar.~\ Helloh — Horsecar, 
give us your flipper. Why, Miss Franchise, shake old woman, 
you look as much like a man as ever. And Patrick, begabers 
you're not as blood-thirsty as you used to be before O' Donovan 
was shot. An' Czarwinski here too — why this is jolly ! [Shakes 
hands with all.] Let's have a song. I don't go on till next scene. 

All together. Yes, yes, let's revive old times. 

Miss Franchise. But before you begin let me just say a few 
words. I am disappointed that you are not a member of our Fe- 



33 

male- Masculine Society, which believes that women have an equal 
right with men to — 

All together. Oh, give a rest ! hush up ! etc. 

Fra?ichise. I'll have my say or die in the attempt. What's 
more, you mustn't interrupt. The time for reform has come. 
Men must be suppressed, and the quicker we do it the better. If 
I had a husband, oh, if I only had a husband ! wouldn't I make 
him walk-chalk-ginger-blue, though ! I'd whip him three times a 
day, good or bad, out o' spite; and if he dared open his mouth I'd 
put my fist in it. 

Oscar. Oh, thou rare and radiant maiden, 
Thy lovely eyes are richly laden 
With sparks of angry ire ; 
Pray, do not scold, oh, do not fret, 
You may find a husband yet. 
\_Aside.~] Oh, what a liar ! 

Franchise. [Softly. ~] And do you really think so, Oscar ? 
Oscar. Think so ? No, I know so. 

There are hundreds sighing, 
And thousands crying. 
[Aside.] And one a lying, 
[Aloud.'] For you, fair maid, for you. 
Franchise. Oh, Oscar, you make me awfully happy ! If I 
only had a dear little husband like — well, well, like you ; dear ? 
nice, little thing, I'd pet him, I'd love him, I'd almost smother 
him. 

Zaidee. You make me sick. 

Oscar. As we cannot tarry long, 
Let us have a jolly song. 

Franchise. But I hate singing. 

Zaidee. Then we'll excuse you. Go down into the cellar you 
can't hear us there. Come, come ! Ready, and all join in the 
chorus. [Here Zaidee can introduce song, dance or any other 
diversity^] [Exit call boy as she finishes.'] 

Call boy. Nurse, time ! 

Zaidee. That means business, and goodness me, what a 
state I'm in to get off my dialogue with Lady Capulet, but I must 
simmer down, simmer down ! Tralala, folks, you'll have to 'scuse 
me. I'll be back in 'steen minutes. [Exit Zaidee^] [Manager 
rushes on.] 

Manager. I'm ruined — ruined ! Only five minutes left, and 



34 

he does not come. Heaven, what's to be done ! Fool that I was 
not to employ that fellow this morning ; but how was I to know 
that Barnes would be crazy enough to get sick just at this time. 
What a devil of a pickle ! Romeo and Juliet with Mercutio left 
out is as bad as Hamlet without Hamlet. Something must be 
done ; and that quickly, too. Oh, if I could only read the part, 
but deuce take it, I've never read a line of it, and there's nothing 
more difficult in Shakespeare. Oh, misery, why was I ever born ! 
And to think it should happen on this night above all others, when 
the Premier is here. I'll kill myself, that's what I'll do. 
\_Rushing off.] 

Killpatrick. That's about as bad a case as ever I saw in all 
my born days. 

Darrell. [Pointing.'] Look, look ! See, he's trying to butt 
his brains out against the wall. \_All crowd to left of stage, and 
look after Manager. Door opens slowly, enter Macready carrying 
an imitation of infei r nal machine very carefully^] 

Macready. The deed must be done, must — be — done. Let's 
see, it's set for nine o'clock. [Looking at watch.] 'Tis now half 
past eight ; in half an hour this building will be nothing but debris, 
and the cause of Ireland will have received an impetus that may 
end in her freedom. Oh, dynamite, dynamite, thou art a cruel 
expedient, yet England has condemned thousands unjustly, so why 
need I hesitate ? I have nothing to lose and all to gain. My 
mangled corpse will be among the ruins, a fitting end for one who 
hath murdered. But then, think of the helpless women and 
children who will perish by my act; think of the homes that will 
be bereft of their protectors. I — I will not do it ! But stop, Ireland 
must be free ! Desperate diseases need desperate remedies, and 
then, ah, then, I will be avenged upon that knave who insulted 
me. Ha, ha. But no, my conscience cries aloud. I will obey it's 
prompting. I have yet time to get it out of the house before it 
explodes, so come on. [Lifts machined] Oh, that I may be 
spared to reach the docks before — [Starts to go.] 

Darrell. [ Turning round.] Hello — who's this ? Why 'tis 
our old friend, Macready. Your hand, old boy, your hand. No 
doubt you are surprised to meet me here, and my whole family, 
too. [Aside.] I wonder if he's any dynamite about him. Maybe 
Sharpe has succeeded. I'll get out of here as soon as possible. 

Macready. [Shaking hands all rounds] But, Darrell, either 
you or this Manager is a fraud. He denies having engaged me. 



35 

Darrell. [Feigning surprise.'] What, the villain ! [Enter 
Manager nearly frantic^] 

Manager. Villain, who's a villain ? What does this 
all mean? Am I dreaming, or is it really true that my theatre 
is invaded by cranks and I am helpless ? Get out of this, every 
one of you! Oh, what am I to do? Barnes hasn't come. Here ? 
prompter, where's the lines ? Give them to me ! I will read 
them, though I've never read them before. What a bungle I'll 
make of it ! [Recognizes Macready^] Oh, joy, can it be you? 
[Falling on his knees to Macready.~\ Sir, you are an angel from 
Heaven ! I adore, I worship — 

Macready. You're a fool. 

Manager. No ; I was a fool not to engage you this morning ; 
but sir, I apologize ; here on my knees I apologize. Play Mercutio 
to-night and I will give you anything — anything — 

Macready. What, you engage me ? 

Manager. Yes, yes, at any price. 

Darrell. [Aside to Macready .] Don't listen to him. He's 
trying to fool you. 

Manager. But he must listen. I say he must. Oh, sir, I never 
was more in earnest in my life. [Drawing Macready aside, left.'] 
There look, listen. * * See, Lady Capulet is holding her 
confab with Juliet's nurse — in a minute more Mercutio must go on 
in the street scene. For gracious sake do not hesitate. 

Macready. But most noble seignor, my costume. I couldn't 
go on so ? 

Manager. True, but here [rushing to dressing room [R] 
returning with cloak and cape] here, put this on. 

Macready. [Putting on coat.] But my pants? 

Manager. Never mind them ; we haven't time. You can 
change next scene. Do you remember your lines ? 

Macready. Perfectly. I commence by saying . "Nay, 
gentle Romeo, we must have you dance." But hold on, sir. 
[ Thinks of his dynamite machi?ie.] Leave me ! Leave me ! I 
want to be alone for one minute. [Grabbing Machine.] I'll be 
back in a second — 

Manager. But you shall not go. [Taking hold of machine.] 
Leave your baggage here, we'll take good care of it. 

Macready. No, no. I cannot. [Aside.] If I tell him I am 
lost. [Aloud.] It's important sir. I must, sir, that — that mustn't 



36 

emain here another minute. Permit me to take it away and I'll 
do anything you desire. [Enter call boy.] 

Call boy. Street, Mercutio ! 

Manager. [Dragging Macready.] Come, come ! You can 
attend to that as soon as the scene's over. 

Macready. But, I tell you — 

Manager. Can't help it, come and do your best. [Exit 
with Macready.'] 

Darrell. [Aside.] I wonder if it can be that Sharpe has 
succeeded! I'll be on the safe side and get out. [Aloud.] 
Forward ! March ! 

Franchise. I'll not go an inch until I see how Mr. 
Macready gets along. I'm just about tired being ordered around 
by you, and henceforth I want you to understand that when a 
woman makes up her mind, she — she — well, she makes up her 
mind, and that's the end of it. [Enter Zaidee.] 

Zaidee. Go it, old gal, go it. Dad, I guess you'd just better 
knuckle under at once. 

Franchise. It'll be all the worst for him if he don't, that's all 
I got to say. For six thousand years we have been held in 
subjection ; but now, sir, now the country demands a change, and 
we're going to have it. Men of your ilk can command men — if 
they are weak enough to submit ; but as for us — us women, we tell 
you frankly, we're going to be boss. 

Killpatrick. Bejabers, the ould womin's riled, and there's 
going to be some fire-works. 

Darrell. I will remember you for this, Mr. Susan. Czarwinski 
I appoint you to take charge of the party and to return with them 
all to my hotel by eleven o'clock. I haven't time to dilly-dally 
here with this fanatical woman. [Aside.] Not when infernal 
machines are about. [Exit Darrell.] 

Franchise. He's mad, and I don't care a bit. I'm glad he 
knows that I'll submit to it no longer. Folks, I'm going to leave 
you all. 

All Together. What ! oh, don't. 

Franchise. Yes, I'm going to lecture. The time has come 
for women to take the platform. Great Britain shall echo with my 
words, and throughout the length and breadth of the land women 
will shake off the shackles of bondage, and towering high above 
serfdom, will look down upon their former condition, as the poor 
negro does upon those dreadful ante-bellum days. The spirit of 



37 

rebellion is in the breast of every true woman ; all they want is 
some one to take the lead and — 

Oscar — Then they'll jump out of the frying pan into the fire. 

Zaidee. No arguments, if you please. We're all old cronies 

here together, and what's the use of quarreling. Oscar, don't you 

know that the man who dares to reason with a woman, is sure to 

raise a racket ? 

Oscar. Tis true, 'tis true, and easy to see, 
When women hold their sway, 
Men should not dare to disagree, 
If they would have their way ; 
For he who's spared a woman's frown 
Has wisely learned to smooth her down ; 
But he who braves a woman's chaff, 
Tickles himself but cannot laugh. 

Franchise . Well, sir, what next ? 

Oscar. Soft words exert a far more potent spell, 
Than all the profanity of blackest — . 

Zaidee. 'Snuff said, 'snuff said. You are both wrong, so dry 
up. Do you know folks, I wish you'd all go round in front of the 
curtain and see me act? It's kinder hard for me to play peace- 
maker behind the scenes and nurse a great big baby in front of 
them all at the same time. I have to smooth up matters for poor 
Romeo in the next act, and it takes all the brains I've got to watch 
my cues. Now, there, listen ! [Goes to side left.~\ Ah, Mercutio 
is commencing his speech about Queen Mab. His voice sounds 
strange. That surely can't be Mr. Barnes. How eloquently he 
speaks ! What a clear beautiful voice ; but look — look at his 
rigging — why, I declare he's his street pants on — being he's crazy, 
I wonder. Here's ago — something's up, I'll bet my life. Come 
this way. all this way, I'll pass you into the gallery. [Exit all 
excepting Czarwinski^\ 

Czarwinski Macready talks strangely. I wonder if he 
meditates upon using the machine I gave to Sharpe ? If not, what 
did Sharpe want it for ? I'll wait here and see him when he comes 
off. [Notices machine^ Helloh, what's that? By the spirit of 
the Czar, it looks like one of my own treasures. [Examines it.~\ 
Well, well, what in the world is it doing here ? And set too, by 
Jupiter, this looks dangerous ! By unscrewing this knob I can find 
out what time it is intended to go off. [ Takes out back of machine^ 
Heigho, the fireworks to begin at nine o'clock ! It must be nearly 
that now. [Looks at watch^\ It wants only two minutes of it. 



88 

What can I do to avert this terrible disaster ? If I try to remove 
the machine I'll be blown up with it in my hands ; yet if I leave it 
here a thousand persons will be slaughtered. Terrible ! I am a 
Nihilist, I hate royalty, I wouldn't raise my finger to save the 
Prince of Wales being blown to atoms ; but I cannot see innocent 
people murdered to remedy political wrongs No, I myself will 
perish, rather. [Looks at watch.'] But one minute left. Heaven ! 
[Raises machine in his arms.] Now to the river. [Hesitates.] 
Oh, happy thought ! I will remove the dynamite. [ Takes out 
knife and after considerable effort extracts an open can from 
bottom of machined] Saved, saved ! [A heavy weight falls to floor 
with loud thud.] I'll patch it up so that Macready won't know 
that it's been tampered with. Hang there, Mr. Weight, and fall 
again whenever you wish to. [Starts to ?o with can of dynamite 
in his ha?id ; loud applause in left wings.] Not a person of that 
vast audience shall ever know the terrible calamity from which 
they have escaped. [More applause?] [Enter Manager.] 

Manager. Grand ! Glorious ! Superb ! I never witnessed 
such acting before. That man, Macready, is the very counterpart 
of the late lamented actor of the same name. The audience is 
fairly wild with enthusiasm. I'll engage him in Barnes' place and 
my fortune's made. [More applause^] Ah, ha, that's sweet 
music in my ears ! The Premier himself has been applauding 
until his hands must ache. [Sees Czarwinski.] What have you 

there, my good fellow ? 

Czanvinski. Nothing, only — only — I'm going to take it 
home. 

Manager. No, you're not. Nothing goes out of this building 
without my permission. Give it here ! [Grabs can.] 

Czanvinski. For mercy sake, do not touch it, sir ! You — 
you — that is, it's — it's — dyna — no, it's blue vitriol ! 

Manager. Bosh ! Blue vitriol ! What's it doing here ? 

Zzarwinski. Why, sir, I brought it for the telephone. 

Manager. [Handing it to him.] Then see that you use it 
carefully. 

Czaiwinski.] That I will, sir, and some day you will thank 
me for the care I have taken of it. [Exit.] [Loud applause [L] 
and enter Macready, bowing, as if just leaving the audience^] 

Macready. Thank God, it's over ! Oh, have I yet time — 
time — [Applause outside continuing?] 

Manager. Oh you have done grandly, sir ; grandly. Listen, 
they are determined to bring you out. 



39 

Macready. Hush up! Leave me alone! Beg pardon, I 
mean I won't go. That is, be kind enough to get out for a few 
minutes. [Continued applause] 

Manage?'. Heavens, man, are you crazy ? The audience is 
wild. They'll tear down the house if you don't respond. 

Macready. [Rushes out and quickly returns] Now, there ! 
are you satisfied ? Leave me, I say, leave me. If you don't, you 
— you will be a dead man. 

Manager. [Aside.] Ah, I see I have a lunatic to deal with ; 
but he's a gre.it actor, and I'must humor him. [Aloud.] To 
show you sir that T appreciate your ability, I desire to make an 
engagement with you at once. I will — 

Macready . We'll talk of that some other time. [Looks at 
watch] Merciful goodness, it's five minutes past nine. Oh, what 
will I do ! What will I do ! [Grabs machine in his arms] I go 
and I may not return again. 

Manager. [Stopping him] But you shall not leave. The 
play isn't half through and you mustn't go. You know you have 
to die yet. 

Macready. Yes I know that, and you, too, will have to die 
if you don't let me go. [More applause] [Enter Zaidee] 

Manager. [Rubbing his hands] Another glorious success. 
Ah, Miss Zaidee, you are bound to make a great actress. 

Zaidee. Thanks, old man, ever so much. But tell me — tell 
me who is it that's playing Mercutio ; he fairly took the house 
by storm. All the company are talking about him. 

Manager. [Pointing to Macready] There he is. [Aside] 
and I fear a little off here [touching his forehead] 

Zaidee. What ! Mr. Macready, you here ? Why, this is 
charming. I'm surprised. 

Macready. Away, child, away. Don't come near me. I'm 
dangerous. [Rushing up and down the. stage] Oh, let me out, 
let me out ! [To Manager] Stand out of my way or I'll brain 
you. 

Manager. Help, help, help ! [Stage hands, actors, etc., rush 
on stage] 

Manager. Seize him, seize him, he's crazy ! 

Macready. Hands off. I will die rather than stay here. 
You don't know, you don't realize. — [ They all crowd around him, 
overpowering him] 



40 

Zaidee. [Interfering P] I say, boys, give the old man a 
chance. Maybe he just wants to get out to see a man, or to take 
a short drink. I notice gentlemen in the audience doing the same 
thing, so why shouldn't the actors behind the curtain have a 
like privilege ? So let him go. 

Manager. What, go out upon the street in that style ? He'd 
be arrested. 

Zaidee. Wouldn't be your funeral if he were. 

Manager. But he'll be called in a few minutes. 

Macready. Oh, please let me go. I'll be back in time. 
[Enter call boy.'] 

Call boy. Mercutio, time ! 

Macready. We are lost — all lost. Recollect, sir, when you 
are mouldering and rotting in your grave that I did the best I 
could to save you.. You think me mad, but sir, there is reason in 
my madness. I leave you, but we may perish any moment. [Pointing 
to machine.] That, sir, is an infernal machine and contains dyna- 
mite — dynamite — do you hear ? \_Exit.~\ 

Manager. [Frightened^] Mercy, man, mercy. For heaven's 
sake take it away. Let the piece wait. The people would rather 
have the whole business postponed, than to be hastened into 
Eternity. Come back, oh, come back ! I say stop the play, 
stop the play. 

Zaidee. What's the use getting frightened, he's only codding 
you. See, here, Mr. Manager, I ain't a feard of it. [Goes tip to 
machine and exami?ies it.] [Aside.] Cracky, 'tis one of Czar- 
winski's sure as I'm born. I wonder if it's loaded? [Aloud.] 
Leave me alone, Mister. I'll attend to this. I'm from America, 
and we're used to them over there. 

Manager. [Going.] I'll just step across the street, you can 
call me when it's all safe. [Exit.] 

Zaidee. Hold on, old man, take this with you. He's gone. 
It's no use. The big coward — he'd desert his theatre and allow all 
these people to perish, rather than risk his own miserable life by 
carrying this away with him. Geminy, 'tisn't a pleasant position 
for me to be here all alone with an infernal machine, and it liable to 
go off any minute. Boo, my teeth clatter! I must be getting the 
ager. What can I do ? Yes, that's it, I'll take it and run just as 
fast as I can. No, that'll make it go off, and maybe kill a whole lot 
of people on the street. Hello, there, I'll just put it in the safe. 
[Opens iro?i safe right of stage.] 'Tis mighty lucky 'tain't locked. 



41 

Even if dynamite can blow up a great strong iron thing like this, 
I 'speck it won't do near as much damage as if 'twere left out here. 
[Locks it in safe.'] It's safe now. [Loud applause left] Listen 
to that. Macready's setting the people crazy, like himself. Look 
at him, his eyes fairly sparkle fire. Poor Romeo is like a supe 
along side of him. Cracky, half the audience have risen in their 
seats! [Loud cheering, bravo, etc.] They are waving their hand- 
kerchiefs and cheering like demons. Ah, he's going through the 
death scene. 

Macready. [As Mercutio outside [L.] 

"Help me into some house, Benvolio, 

Or I shall faint. A plague o' both your houses ! 

They have made worm's meat of me : — 

I have it, and soundly, too : — Your houses !" 

[Enter Macready borne by Benvolio. Tremendous apphutse 

continuing during the following soliltoquy.] 

Macready. I have reached the edge of the cliff. It but 
remains for me to throw myself into the yearning abyss. Cheer 
on, ye fools. 1 will be with you once again and will unfold to you 
a terrible truth. Brace up, Macready, it's not acting you have 
before you this time — you have to face stern reality. Justice shall 
be appeased. I will make a full surrender. [Exit Macready] 

Zaidee. [Aside.] What does he mean by such talk ? Ah, 
h steps to the front of the stage. Is he going to repeat? No, 
no. Hark, he is speaking ! Gracious, what is he talking about? 
Murder! * * The audience are rushing for the doors. * * 
Has he told them about the dynamite, I wonder. * * * * 
No. See, the Premier still remains seated and as calm as a statue. 
Strange men spring upon the stage, the police at the head of 
them. See, see, they rush towards Mr. Macready ! A.h, mercy, 
l hey are putting handcuffs on his wrists. They come this way. 
Oh, what has happened ! [Enter Policemen with Macready 
handcuffed^ Sutherland, gentlemen, actors, all the cranks, also 
Manager from right of stage] 

Macready. Take me away. The darkest, blackest dungeon 
in your prison is too good for me. 

Manager. Gentlemen, gentlemen, what does this all mean ? 
Is the theatre in danger ? 

Macready. It means sir, that though I am by profession an 
actor, I am by my villainy also a murderer. A murderer, do you 



42 

hear ? These hands of mine have been steeped in the blood of a 
fellow man, and I have given myself up to the law. 

Manager. He is crazy. 

Macready. No, I am not. I am as sane as any of you- 
Would to God that I were a lunatic. But, alas ! remorse is not 
charitable enough to drive me mad. Every word I said just now 
in the presence of yon multitude of witnesses is true. The blood 
of the slain cries out against me. The law of God is an eye for an 
eye, a tooth for a tooth and a life for a life ; the law of man is 
equally just and condemns murderers to the scaffold. So why 
tarry here ? Away, away ! 

Policeman. What shall we do ? 

Manager. Leave him to me. He'll be all right by the 
morning. 

Sutherland. No, officer, your prisoner has spoken the truth. 
He has given himself up to the law, so the law must keep him in 
custody until he expiates his crime. 

Macready. Upon the gallows. 

Manager. What, Sutherland, do you believe him guilty ? 

Sutherland. I not only believe it but I know it. I can prove 
him to be the murderer of Lord Nordville. So, officer, do your 
duty. \_Officer starts to go with prisoner] 

Zaidee. Stop, stop. You are arresting an innocent man. 
Look, look into that man's face and tell me is guilt written 
there? I tell you, gentlemen, he is innocent though he 
believes himself guilty. If I were a judge, no matter if twenty 
witnesses swore that he committed murder, I wouldn't believe 
them. What, you doubt my word ? You think woman's instinct 
worth nothing ? Because you have a poor trembling fellow in your 
grasp and because he looks nearly frightened to death and swears 
that he is a criminal, you believe him rather than your own senses. 
One moment more. Let me tell you this much and you will find 
it to be true: Mr. Macready may be crazy and I believe he is, 
but he ain't wicked. Somebody's worked upon him and got him 
here to commit a crime. 

Sutherland. But, Zaidee, I say — 

Zaidee. Hush up ! I guess I know what I'm talking about. 
Yes, some one is behind all this, mark my word. [Loud crash 
inside of the safe, all terribly frightened] 

Macready. The end is come. I — I — [Swoons.] 

Zaidee. Don't be alarmed, gentlemen, that was only a little 



43 

fireworks busting in the safe. [Aside.'] Cracky, I hope it's all 
over ! 

Sutherland. We are losing time. Officers, your duty. 

Zaidee. Take him then if you must, but you will find that I 
am right. {Stoops dow?i and kisses Macready on fore head. ,] Good 
bye, poor dear old fool, Zaidee will visit you in the jail every day 
until all this mystery is explained. And as for Mister Ernest 
Sutherland he need never speak to me again. 

Curtain. 



ACT III. 

Scene i. — A Cell in the Old Bailey, London. 
Enter Jailor and Macready {in chains?) 

Jailor. You will be called in a few minutes before the 
Criminal Court. Do you desire counsel to defend you? 

Macready. [Sharply.] No. 

Jailor. But you must have a lawyer. It's absolutely 
necessary to have one at the trial. I know a young man who will 
take the case for a £10 retainer and — if he gets you off — 

Macready. But I tell you I do not want an attorney. If I 
wished to cheat justice I would employ one. Law is a game of 
blind-man's buff; no matter how just or unjust, the accu- 
sation, the man's conviction or acquittal depends upon his 
lawyer's ability to blindfold the judge. I am guilty, guilty I say 
and will make no defense. 

Jailor. [Aside.] That settles the divy I expected to make 
with Lawyer Potts. [Aloud.] Very well, you may regret this 
foolish foolhardiness. If you should change your mind just go 
there and rattle your chains at the door and I'll be back in a jiffy. 
Remember, there's a technical legal point that will make a free 
m an of y o u . [ Exit ja ilor. ] 

Macready. What does he mean by that? "A technical 
point that will make a free man of me." Oh yes, yes, Sutherland 
told me that by the laws of England no man can be tried twice for 
the same offense. Bah, I am guilty ! I will not stoop to thus 
swindle justice. What a contrast there is between law and justice. 
Law is like a rotten net, the meshes of which are great loop-holes 
through which the cunning may always escape. But justice is a 



44 

staunch seine which holds its captive forever. Ah, while we may- 
evade the law we cannot cheat justice, for she pierces through the 
strongest shield of chicanery, assumes control of our consciences 
and gnaws at our very souls. I would rather be innocent, though 
sentenced by law to undergo its greatest penalty than to be guilty 
and be what that jailor called a free man. The life-convict of 
Newgate, if he knows within his own heart that he has been 
unjustly accused is happier than the most honored man in the 
outside world who gloats over "blood money." But why need I 
moralize? The trial will soon begin and I will stand before my 
fellow man a self-convicted felon. Oh, frightful thought, yet how 
just ! The good, kind minister who visited me yesterday told me 
to make my peace with God. Peace with God — as if a 
murderer could go with bloody hands and ask his Creator to be 
merciful to such a creature. No, no — no! I am too base, too 
villainous to bow before the Mercy Seat. My punishment is 
merited. If I have no right to plead for leniency to] my earthly 
judge I surely will not insult Deity by praying, "Lord receive me 
into Thy Kingdom." Bah, 'tis hollow mockery. As I lived so 
will I die, for death-bed repentances have no more potency than 
idle words. [Enter jailor \] 

Jailor. Prisoner, a lady waits without. She wishes to speak 
with you. 

Macready. Admit her. [Exit jailor .] Who can it be ? 
[Enter Zaidee.'] Ah, Miss Zaidee, this is kind of you. 

Zaidee. Not Miss Zaidee, but Zaidee, please. The same 
Zaidee that I was when you told me that horrid Dad and Mam 
weren't Dad and Mam at all, but wicked impostors. See, Pve 
brought you this nice bouquet. I had nearly all of them' daisies, 
'cos daisies mean innocence in the language of flowcs. 

Macready. Ah, you are so good, so kind. But you — you 
Zaidee, are the last one in the world who ought to be — be merciful 
to me, for I — I — I'm the raur — murderer of your fath — 

Zaidee. Now, don't, don't say that. You'll make me cry, 
and then I'll look awful horrid. I don't care what you say, I 
wouldn't believe you guilty not if you swore to it forty times a 
day, as fast as a horse can trot. What's more, you ain't going to 
stay in prison much longer, either. I've brought you an awful 
smart lawyer, he my un — ('lev mind who he is) but he says lie's 
sure you'll be let off. 



45 

Macready. Remember, I've positively refused to allow any 
defense to be made. 

Zaidee. You positively allow nothing of the sort. But before 
I call him in I want to tell you a great big secret. Let's set down 
here. Cross your breath you'll never tell ? 

Macready . I promise. 

Zaidee. Well, I guess you kinder 'spicioned that I was dead 
gone on Mr. Sutherland ? 

Macready. "Dead gone," what's that ? 

Zaidee. Pshaw j Don't you know ? Dead gone means 
smashed, head over heels, kerwolloped, up to your ears in love. 

Macready. Ah, now I understand. 

Zaidee. And you oughter. Somehow or other he was just 
my style. But'tain't 'cause he's pretty that I love him. No 'deed 
it's 'cos he's snice. 

Macready. Because he's what ? 

Zaidee. "Snice" — s-n-i-c-e-snice. Snice to be good, slick, 
scrumptious. Now you know what ''snice" is. And Erny is just 
awful snice. Every time he used to come near me I'd feel the 
creepers coming on. Creepers are awful funny things ; they set 
your heart a bouncing, you feel just like you'd like to kiss some- 
body plum in the mouth. But Uncle says 'tisn't lady-like, so I 
don't kiss Erny. I'm living with Uncle now, he's snice, too. I've 
quit the stage and am playing a new part. That of a big high 
tomfool of a lady. Ain't these duds snobby ? But they're nothing 
to what I've got home chucked away in my Swaratoga. 

Macready. It does me good to see you so happy. Ah, if 
your poor father were alive — 

Zaidee. Now there you go again. It's no use to cry over 
spilt milk. My father's dead and though I have a little quiet weep 
over it every day all to myself, I don't like to talk about it. Well, 
as I was saying, Uncle's awfully kind and tells me I can get 
married to Mr. Sutherland if I want to. 

Macready. And I am sure you do. 

Zaidee. Yes, I 'speck so ; but I ain't going to marry him 'till 
after the trial, and not even then unless you are let off. 

Macready. Why do you make that a condition ? 

Zaidee. 'Cos I wouldn't make up with Erny until he'd prom- 
ised. Oh, but I was mad with him about that night at the theatre. 
He daring to say you were guilty without my consent ! So I told 



46 

him that unless he did every thing- in his power to get you acquitted 

I would not marry him. He has promised and he will keep his 

word. 

Macready. God bless you, my child. Your kindness to me 

is so strange, so unnatural that it gives me both pleasure and pain. 

Pleasure because it shows that you at least believe me innocent, 

and pain because my conscience punishes me tenfold more acutely 

when I know that you should curse rather than bleaS me. 

Zaidee. Oh, Mr- Macready, I couldn't curse. I never said a 
bad word in all my life. Don't you tell anybody "bout me being 
'gaged to Mr. Sutherland. You know I don't care, only you know 
a young girl don't like everybody to know she's 'gaged 
when she's 'gaged. Oh, you understand — 

Macready. No danger of my telling it. Whom would I 
tell it to ? 

Zaidee. Oh, lots of people, for you'll soon be free. 

Macready. Alas, my child, it shall never be so. For, even 
if the Judge acquits, there's a monitor which will never, 
never cease tormenting me. Punishment which comes from within 
a man's own self is far more terrible than outside forces can inflict. 

Zaidee. Don't talk so gloomily. You'll give me the blues. 
But the lawyer is waiting, I'll call him in. 

Macready. No, stop, I will not see him. 

Zaidee. But you must. Please, for my sake. 

Macready. I am guilty, so why — 

Zaidee. You're a goose. I guess the Judge and jury don't 
know you're guilty, and they've got to prove it. [Goes to door 
and calls .-] Say, you there, bring the lawyer in ! Don't be afraid 
of him, Mr. Macready, he's snice, too. 

Macready. But I protest. [Enter Jailor and Donald 
Morton.~] What — in the holy name of Heaven ! You are Donald 
Morton, the brother of Lord Nordville ! Surely, you come to 
prosecute rather than defend. 

Morton. No, at the request of my niece, here, I propose 
conducting the case for the defense. 

Zaidee. Yes, and Uncle's going to have you cleared, too. 

Macready. But I tell him I'm guilty. 

Morton. The burden of proof is upon the government. 

Macready. And you are willing to defend me though I 
frankly confess to be the murderer of your own brother ? 



47 

Morton. Yes, in spite of your confession I undertake the 
case. 

Macready. Then, sir, I tell you there is not an ounce of 

manhood in your composition. 

Morton. Have a care, sir ; have a care. 

Macready. I know exactly what 1 am saying. If you are 
willing to stand before the bar of justice and the bar of God, 
pleading for the life of the man who murdered your own brother ; if 
you make a single effort to save my worthless life from a felon's 
doom you are not worthy to be called a man. You are a cur who 
licks the hand that's thrashing him. 

Morton. No other man on earth would dare to speak thus to 
me. But I know your condition. I will consider it. The time 
will soon come when you will apologize for those cruel words. 
Can I enter my appearance as your counsel ? 

Macready. No, a thousand times no ! 

Zaidee. Oh, say yes, for my sake, please, just for my sake. 

Macready. No — no — no. Not even for — [Hesitating^] 
[Aside.'] I'll humor her. [Aloud.] Yes. Yes, you may. Go — 

Zaidee. Now, that's just splendid in you. Come along, 
Uncle, we'll hurry to the court house. Good- bye, good-bye. 
[Exit Zaidee and Morton.~\ 

Macready. That man is either the most unnatural brother 
that ever lived or else he's crazy. But stop — maybe he thinks 
I'm insane. What did he mean by saying he would consider my 
condition ? Heavens, if he is going to try to prove insanity, what 
will I do ? The more I confess my guilt the more they will 
believe his theory. One thing is certain, if they acquit me I will 
take my own life. [Enter jailor.] 

Jailor. You are wanted. Come. 

Macready. The doom is near. Lead on. [Exit jailor and 
Macready. 



Scene 2. — A Court Room. Judge (C) Jury (Z,.) Pris- 
oner (R?) Jailor near him. Witness stand (L.) Crier (R.~) 
Counsel to.ble (C) Jorward. — Benches upon which are seated 
Zaidee, Sutherland, Darrell, Miss Franchise, Prosecuting 
Attorney and Morton at Coimsel Table. 

Judge. Prisoner at the bar you have heard the indictment. 
What say you — are you guilty or not ? 

Macready. Guilty. 



48 

Morton. May it please your Honor, I hold that the plea of 
the prisoner should be accepted with reluctance. The defendant 
does not fully understand the charge or else he is actuated by a 
morbid desire for punishment. I trust your Honor will explain to 
him the effect of his plea. 

Judge. Prisoner at the bar, you stand accused of a capital 
offense. Whether you are innocent or gulty it is the duty of this 
Court to ascertain and pass upon. If you persist in adhering to 
the plea you have entered, nothing remains but for me to pass 
sentence. You will thus be deprived of a trial and a pardon alone 
can save you from being hanged by the neck until you are dead. 
You have still a chance to correct your plea, and by so doing you 
will put the burden of proof on the government. I ask you again, 
what say you, are you guilty or not guilty? 

Zaidee. Not guilty. 

Judge. Silence in the court. 

Zaidee. [Rising, Morton trying to restrain her.] But, Mr. 
Judge, I tell you he's not guilty. No more than you are this 
minute. He — 

Judge. Silence ! Sheriff, put that woman out of court. 

Morton. May it please your Honor, to waive your order. 
The young lady does not understand, but I will promise she will 
not again interrupt the proceedings. 

Judge. She may remain, but if she speaks again I will order 
her imprisoned for contempt of court. 

Zaidee. Can't I say just one wee little word ? 

Morton. For gracious sake be quiet. You will make the 
Judge hang Macready. 

Zaidee. Then I'll hush up. 

Judge. The prisoner has heard the question, is he prepared, 
to plead ? Be careful. Your life may depend upon your words 

Macready. I have spoken. My answer first is my answer 
last. But, your Honor, that you may fully understand the motives 
of my confession, may I preface it with a few words ? 

Judge. An unusual request — in fact, these are unusual 
proceedings. You may speak. 

Macready. You say 'tis not usual for a man accused of a 
capital offense to plead guilty ? And why is this so ? Because, 
as Shakespeare says: — ''Conscience doth make cowards of us all," 
and though there is in the bosom of every murderer a voice of 
terror with "a thousand several tongues," each telling him, ''he'd 



49 

better be with the dead" than undergo the horrible punishment 
that comes from within ; still they cling to their miserable lives as 
though a ray of hope had pierced even to their sin-begrimed souls. 
With the prisoner before you it is not so. I stand here pleading 
for justice. Justice not only to the living but to the dead. You 
cannot acquit me, for your acquittal would be a hollow mockery — 
a defiance of the laws of the land — an outrage to God. See, see 
these hands, they are steeped in blood — the blood of the best of 
men, and it cries for vengeance. Lord Nordville was my friend — 
I loved him as a brother, yet we qu irrelled and I followed him 
intending to punish him for a supposed insult. I felled him to the 
ground. I was excited.' I knew not that I had in my hand a 
deadly weapon, but it must have been so for he fell at my feet a 
mangled corpse. Corpse, do you hear — my God — I say a corpse ! 
I see his ghastly eyes piercing my soul. I hear him groan. I — 
I — there, look, the blood is coursing from his wound. I bathe my 
hands in it. Oh, why do you delay? My life is his — is his. 
[Falls back in his seat] \_Darrell, visibly affected, starts to go, but 
is restrained by Morton.] 

Judge. Ah, conscience is a great detective — a great detective. 
Prisoner at the bar, you appear to have been a murderer, but it 
seems to me that you are a singularly honest one. As you have 
persisted in your plea, it is the painful duty of this court to pass 
sentence. You will rise. \_Macready, assisted by jailor, rises.] 
The sentence of Her Majesty's Court is, that you be taken hence 
to the public jail where you will be detained until such date as the 
Home Secretary may appoint, and thence taken to the place of 
execution, and there — 

Morton. Your Honor — 

Judge. Silence in the court, do not interrupt in the delivery 
of the sentence. And there be — 

Morton. I rise to make a motion in arrest of judgment. 

Judge. Ah, in that case I will hear you. 

Morton. My motion is based upon the fact that the indict- 
ment against the prisoner is illegal. If your Honor will refer to 
the Criminal Docket for the September term, 1872, he will find that 
this man has been tried before for the same offense and legally 
acquitted. 1 need not refer you to cases decided upon the well- 
established principle of common law that no mi can be twice 
tried upon the same indictment. 

Judge. True, true. \_ReJerring to docket^] T find the record 



50 

here. Prisoner at the bar, you have made a fortunate escape. 
One moment more and you would have been sentenced. You are 
dis — 

Macready. Ah, 'tis just as I thought. Justice is dead, and in 
her place there sits a tyrant called law, which condemns the inno- 
cent, while the guilty escape. 

Judge. Silence, sirrah, silence. 

Macready. I will not be silent. Here in the presence of 
these witnesses I stand a living proof of the inadequacy of the law. 

Judge. Such conduct is unheard of. Sheriff — 

Macready. Hands off. Surely a man is allowed to speak 
in his own defense. 

Judge. But you — you fool — you are injuring your case. 

Macready. Your Honor, I stand here a self-confessed 
murderer, and yet you were about to discharge me, to set me free 
upon the world, for what all you know a blood-thirsty wretch. I 
tell you I am guilty, yet you say, "go, you are free;" is that 
justice ? 

Judge. But the law, man, the law — 

Macready. The law that is so technical that it sets a murderer 
free is not worth being called a law. 

Judge. I commit you to Newgate for contempt of court. 
Sheriff, take him away. 

Macready. But tell me, your Honor, can I not waive the 
advantage I would have under the common law, and be tried 
again ? 

Morton. A waiver would not be legal, for the sentence 
could not be carried out. 

Judge. In the opinion of this court, the learned counsel is in 
error. Such a waiver is not upon the books that I know of, yet I 
see no reason why the prisoner should not be at liberty to waive 
the benefits of a technicality. We will proceed with the trial. 

Morton. And your Honor will accept the man's confession ? 

Judge. Why should I not ? 

Morton. Because he knows not what he says — He is insane. 

Macready. Tis false I — I — 

Judge. Silence ! Have you evidence to offer to that effect ? 

Morton. We have the evidence of the man's own actions 
before this Honorable Court. 

Judge. The court admits he has not acted rationally. 



51 

Prosecuting Attorney. It is now my turn to speak. I have 
remained silent because the accused, having confessed his crime it 
remained but for the Court to pass sentence. As it seems that he 
is to be tried contrary to a well-known principle of common law 
and the defense has put in the plea of insanity, it devolves upon 
them to establish the same. 

Morton. After you have proven the crime. 

P. A. That will be very easy to do, since we have the 
prisoner's acknowledgement of the murder. 

Morton. But we claim he is insane and incompetent to plead ( 
and therefor — 

Judge. The only way I can see out of this difficulty is to try 
him as though he had entered the usual plea of not guilty. Is the 
prosecution ready for trial ? 

P. A. I am. 

Judge. Then go ahead. Call the first witness. 

P. A. Call Ambrose Smith. 

Crier. Ambrose Smith take the stand. \_He obeys.'] 

Judge. Waive the usual questions. He is of lawful age. 

P. A. Mr. Smith, do you know the prisoner at the bar ? 

Smith. Yes sir. No, sir, that is, only by sight. 

Morton. What do you mean by sight ? 

Smith. That is, I used to know him. 

Morton. Ah ! 

P. A. Please don't interrupt the examination. Mr. Smith, 
did you see the prisoner on the night of the murder ? 

Smith. Yes, sir. I saw him crossing Fleet street ; he 
muttered to himself as he passed me, "To-night fixes it between 
Lord Nordville and me" or something like that. 

P. A. Did you see him afterwards ? 

Smith. No sir. 

P. A. I am through, Mr. Morton, the witness is in your 
hands. 

Morton. Recollect man, you are on your oath. Do you 
positively know it was the prisoner at the bar ? 

Smith. Yes sir. I could not have been mistaken, because I 
saw him by the full light of the moon. 

Morton. The moon must have been shining very brightly 
upon the night of the murder or you could not have recognized 
the prisoner. 

Smith. Yes sir, it was as light as day out. 



52 

Morton. I ask the court to refer to this almanac for 1872 and 
notice if the moon had risen by ten o'clock on the night of February 
17th. [Handing almanac to Judge who examines it.] 

Judge. Ah, this is official. The court is bound to take 
presumption of the condition of the heavenly bodies. What day 
of the month did you say, counsellor ? 

Morton. The seventeenth. 

Judge. Yes, and here it is. There was a new moon that 
night, and I declare it set at 8.10 P. M. Gentlemen of the jury, 
examine this. [Handing it to them.'] The witness has perjured 
himself. I will commit — 

Morton. If the court and jury are satisfied to that effect, I am 
ready to proceed. 

P. A. Call Detective Sly. 

Crier. Detective Sly, take the stand. [Sly obeys."] 

P. A. What do you know of the murder? 

Sly. Nothing, sir, only that I was employed to hunt for 
clues. 

P. A. How did you succeed ? 

Sly. I found a bloody knife thrown in an alley-way near the 
scene. 

P. A. [Holding up knife.] Is this the one ? 

Sly. [Examining it.] Yes sir, that's it. I know it by its 
particular shape, the blood stains and the name upon the handle. 

P. A. Gentlemen of the jury, be kind enough to examine the 
knife. [Hands it around to them.] You will notice that the name 
of the prisoner is cut in the handle. I have nothing further to ask 
the witness. 

Morton. Did you secure any other clues ? 

Sly. No sir ; that is — no. 

Morton. Certainly a detective of your well-known ability 
would not stop an investigation when only on the threshold of 
positive evidence. When did you find this knife ? 

Sly. About a month after the murder, half hidden in a lot of 
rubbish in the alley. 

Morton. It must have been close to somebody's fence. 

Sly. Yes sir, just where the gate opened. 

Morton. Did you not inquire who lived there? 

Sly. Yes, but the party who was there when the murder was 
committed had left for America a few days before. 

Morton. And the name of that party was — 



53 

Sly. A Mr. Sharpe. The lady of the house told me that 
he had left the country because he had seen the murder committed 
and was afraid he'd be called in as a witness. Before leaving he 
told the lady that Macready was the murderer. 

Morton. Did you not try to find this man Sharpe ? 

Sly. Yes, but I did not succeed. 

Morton. That will do. 

P. A. Call Paul Sharpe. 

Crier. Paul Sharpe take the stand. 

P. A. Are you the man Sharpe just referred to ? 

Sharpe. Yes, sir. 

P. A. Did you leave the country because you did not desire 
to testify ? 

Sharpe. Yes sir. 

P. A. Tell the Court and Jury what you know of this 
murder. 

Sharpe. On the evening in question, I was sitting near my 
window, the second story front, when I heard loud words sounding 
like a threat. I sprang to my window and looked out below. 
Just then I saw two men scuffling. I saw one raise a knife aloft 
and then plunge it into the breast of the other who sank upon the 
pavement in a heap. 

P. A. Could you recognize the man who struck the blow ? 

Sharpe. Yes sir ; that man is the prisoner. 

P. A. I am through and willing to rest the case here. 

Morion. With the permission of the court I will reserve 
cross-questioning the last witness. Call Susan B. Franchise. 

Crier. Susan B. Franchise take the stand. [She obeys.'] 

Franchise. If I may say few words before I open my mouth 
I would like to appeal to all persons present in the holy name of 
woman. This court is run entirely by men. It should not be so. 
There should be a woman on that judge's bench, there should be 
women at that counsel's desk, there should be women in that jury 
box, there should be women in — 

Zaidee. The prisoner's dock. 

Judge. Silence in the court. [To Franchise .] You, madam, 
must be quiet and answer only when you are questioned. 

Franchise. I guess I was only going to say a few words. 
The subject of woman's suffrage is one of such vital importance 



54 

that we should never miss an opportunity to speak and do our 
utmost to — 

Judge. Silence ! 

Morton. Pray, Miss Franchise, postpone your lecture until 
we get through with the case. 

Franchise. All-right, only I think it unfair for men to run the 
whole court-house. I'd just like to — 

Zaidee. O, switch off, old gal, switch off. 

Judge. Silence ! Silence \ 

Morton. Are you acquainted with the prisoner at the bar ? 

Franchise. Acquainted ! Well I should reckon. We were 
boys together. 

Morton. What of his reputation ? 

Franchise. It couldn't be better, not even if he'd been born 
a girl. Talk as you please about bad boys making good men, I 
don't believe it. That man standing there \_pointi?ig to Macready] 
was a good baby, a good boy and a good man, and in fact he's 
been good all the time. It's all foolishness to try him for this 
murder ; he's so tender-hearted he wouldn't kill a flea. True he 
went on the stage without his parents' consent, but I don't blame 
him for that, I did the same thing. I tell you, Mr. Lawyer, there's 
only one fault that I have to find with him, and that is — 

P. A. What ? 

Franchise. He don't endorse female suffrage. 

P. A. I object to this witness. Her evidence is irrelevant. 

Franchise. Whose aunt ? 

Morton. Your. Honor, I'll try to pin her down to the point at 
issue. 

Franchise. No you won't. If you pin me I'll scream. 

Morton. Did you know Lord Nordville ? 

Franchise. Intimately. I used to visit him at his office, and 
he gave me several contributions for the Woman's Christian 
Temperance Union. Besides, I sewed for his wife at his home for 
a month before the murder - 

Mortoyi. What was the relationship between him and the 
prisoner at the bar ? 

Franchise. They were the best and truest friends. I never 
knew them to quarrel. 

Morton. Did he have among his acquaintances a man by the 
name of Henry Page ? 



55 

Franchise. No, but a man of that name came to his house on 
the morning of ths murder. 

Morton. Can you say for what purpose ? 

Franchise. Yes, I heard them talking in the back office. 
Page begged Lord Nordville not to prosecute him for a forgery he 
had committed. 

Dart ell. [Rising excitedly. .] She lies. I tell you she lies. 
He charged me with the crime but I was innocent. I only wanted 
— {Sets down.~] [Aside.'] What a fool I have made of myself. 

Morton. Notice, your Honor and gentlemen of the jury, this 
man who professes to be Henry Darrell now acknowledges that he 
is also Henry Page. 

Darrell. I don't. I — I'm Darrell — Henry Darrell. 

Judge. Silence in the court. 

Morton. Did Nordville consent? 

Franchise. No, he was inexorable. 

Morton. What next occurred ? 

Franchise. Nothing, only Lord Nordville told him to begone 
that he would have no mercy upon a forger and a thief. 

Morton. 1 understand that while you were in America you 
lived for six months at a hotel called Crank's Retreat, kept by this 
man Page or Darrell, whichever you choose to call him. How do 
you reconcile that fact with the evidence you have just given ? 

Franchise. I did not know that Page and Darrell were one 
and the same person. In fact I did not see Page before I met 
Darrell, and the only way I learned the name ■ of the man who 
visited Lord Nordville that day was that I heard my Lord tell his 
wife so at the dinner table. Although I heard Lord Nordville and 
Page in the office talking, I could not see them. 

Morton. Go on. 

Franchise. Well, Darrell came to me in America and offered 
me a home. I accepted, and since then — 

P. A. These questions have nothing to do with the prisoner 
and I object. 

Morton. The witness is excused. 

Judge. Be seated, madam, you are through testifying. 

Franchise. No, I'm not. There's another case on trial and 
I know lots about it. The people of this country and every 
country will have to decide sooner or later whether the poor, 
much-abused women are to continue to set supinely down and 
allow men to boss the universe. 



56 

Judge. Silence, ma'am, silence ; this is no place for — 

Franchise. Yes it is. Liberty of speech is recognized every- 
where. I make it a rule, sir, I make it a rule never to lose an 
opportunity to say a word in favor of the emancipation of woman. 
We do not expect to assume control over the whole world by a 
single effort but by united effort. I want you, sir, you who call 
yourself a judge, to acknowledge that when the Creator put Eve in 
the Garden of Eden He clothed her with appellate jurisdiction. 

Judge. No, ma'am, the scripture tells us that it was simply a 
figleaf. 

Franchise. None of your funny business, sir, I won't have it. 
I claim that in Eve there was invested an absolute veto over all of 
Adam's acts and the fact that he ate the forbidden fruit showed 
that he acknowledged her appel-ate jurisdiction. 

Judge. I commit the witness. 

Franchise. Yes, that's it. Commit me, commit me — it's 
just like you nasty men. You have the reins all in your own hands. 
Only wait till we get in your place, we'll send you to jail for ninety- 
nine years for getting drunk. 

Judge. Officers away with her. [Officers oj court approach 
her.] 

Franchise. Don't you dare put your dirty hands on me. I'll 
go without any pushing. But I tell that old bald-headed codger 
up there with a wig on, that if he condemns the prisoner I'll shoot 
him so dead he won't know what struck him. [Exit Franchise.] 

Judge. A threat, by Blackstone, a threat ! I — I must — 

Morton. We beg your Honor to allow us to proceed. Call 
Mrs. Caroline Darrell. 

Crier. Caroline Darrell take the stand. [She obeys.] 

Morton. What was your maiden name, madam ? 

Mrs. D. Ludlow, sir. 

Morton. Are you the lawful wife of the man who calls himself 
Henry Darrell ? 

Mrs. D. Yes, sir. 

Morton. You were married by a minister named Grey, were 
you not? 

Mrs. D. Yes sir. How did you know that ? 

Morton. Never mind. When were you married ? 

Mrs. D. In 1875. 



57 

Morton. Now madam, under what name was this man 
Darrell married to you ? 

Mrs. D. I — I — I refuse to tell. 

P. A. Your Honor, these questions are all irrelevant to the 
point at issue. I ask that you rule them out. 

Morto?i. May it please the Court to allow me to go on. I 
expect to prove by this witness several links of a chain of evidence 
favorable to the prisoner. She is the wife of a man who knows 
more of this murder than any person in this court room. May I 
continue ? 

Judge. Go on. Witness you will have to answer the ques- 
tion. 

Mrs. D. Am I compelled to tell under what name my 
husband went when he married me ? 

Judge. Exactly. 

Mrs. D. And if I refuse ? 

Judge. I will send you to jail until you answer. 

Mrs. D. Well then, his name was Henry Page. 

Morton. Just what I thought. Now, ma'am, after he married 
you he took you to his home and passed you off upon a child 
named Zaidee as her mother ? 

Mrs. D. Yes. 

Morton. Did he tell you he was the father of the child ? 

Mrs. D. No. He said he had brought her from England 
with him. 

Morton. Do you know when he left England ? 

Mrs. D. Yes. March, 1872. 

Morto7i. The month after the murder, your Honor, or just 
about the time the knife was found by Detective Sly. [ To witness:] 
Did you not ask him for what reason he kept the child ? 

Mrs. D. Yes, and he told me that 'twas because he was a 
fool. I don't like to swear, your Honor. 

Morton. And why did he consider himself a fool ? 

Mrs. D. Pshaw ! Will I have to tell the whole story ? 

Morton. Yes, there is no other way out of it. 

Mrs. D. Well then, Page told me he had gotten into 
trouble with a man over here in England, and because he wouldn't 
come to terms he kidnapped the man's infant daughter, hoping to 
use her for getting money out of him. But I afterwards learned 
that it was because he thought all lawyers were rascals, and that as 



58 

the girl's uncle was a lawyer, he could get money by keeping her 
away, so that the uncle could get control of her fortune. 

Darrell. Curse you ! Hold your tongue ! 

Judge. Silence. 

Morton. And he found out that the uncle was an honest 
man and wouldn't enter into such schemes. I suppose that was 
the reason he called himself a fool ? 

Mrs. D. Yes sir, I guess so. Anyway, he found that it 
would be dangerous to take the child back to England, so he had 
to keep her against his will. 

Morton. I am through with your examination. I will state 
to the court and jury that yonder sets the child referred to. 
[Pointing to Zaidee.] And that I am the lawyer, uncle and brother 
of Lord Nordville. Please call Miss Zaidee Morton. 

Crier. Zaidee Morton take the stand. 

Zaidee. An' where shall I take it ? 

Morton. He means for you to stand upon it. 

Zaidee. Then why didn't he say so ? 

Morton. State to the jury all you know about the prisoner at 
the bar, and also about Mr. Darrell. 

Zaidee. [Pointing to Macready.] I know that that's one of 
the best men that ever whistled Yankee Doodle, and I know that 
that's Dad [Pointing to Darrell] he used to beat me like the 
mischief. 

Morton. Yes, yes, but we don't want you to tell us that ; we 
want — 

Zaidee. Then what did you ask me for ? Look at old Dad 
over there now, he's shaking in his boots ; he knows I'm going to 
tell on him and he's getting scared. 

Darrell. Bah ! I defy you child, I — 

Zaidee. You needn't come your bragadocio over me. 
'Spose Mr. Lawyer asks me about you walking and a' talking in 
your sleep, and what you said and all like that, don't you 'speck 
you'd feel more ticklish than Mr. Macready ? [Darrell rises and 
attempts to leave the room.'] 

Judge. Officer detain him. He is attached as a witness. 

Zaidee. Yes, don't go Dad, the case is getting awful snice. 

Morton. You spoke of Mr. Darrell walking and talking in 
his sleep, tell me all about it ? 

Zaidee. I thought you'd ask that. Well, my room was next 
to Dad and Mam's, and there was a door opening right between 



59 

them. Dad used to moan and groan and talk while he was asleep, 
but I never paid any 'tention to it 'cos [ couldn't understand what 
he was saying. But one night I was lying wide awake in my bed 
with my eyes open. It was so dark that I could see 
nothing. I was awful scared. My heart was in my mouth, for all 
a sudden I felt the door open and some one come in. It was Dad, 
'cos I heard him commence to talk. Cracky, but I was glad, 'cos 
I thought it was a bugler. Well, Dad walked way up to the far 
corner of the room and said, said he, as if looking around for 
something : "It must be here, it must be here ! Sharpe told me 
that he would half hide it, so that it could be easily found. I will 
look at it once more — it has a strange ghastly fascination." Then 
he picked up one of my old shoes and carried it to the window. 
The moonlight just then streamed in and I could see him distinctly. 
He held the old shoe still in his hand and uttered, "'Twas quickly 
done. A plunge, only a plunge ! Ah, little knife, covered with blood, 
what a tale you could tell ! To-morrow you will be found and you 
will drive the hounds from my track and I will be free. Ha, ha, 
weapon, I — " 

Darrell. {Springing to his feet.~] Judge, stop her, the girl 
is mad — mad ! I, I never saw the knife after the deed was done. 
I threw it from me. Sharpe picked it up. I — [Aside.'] My 
God, what have I said ! 

Morton. That will do, Miss Zaidee, I am through. 

Zaidee. I told you Judge I'd give him a raking up, and I've 
done it. 

Morton. Call Oscar Wilde. 

Crier. Oscar Wilde, take the stand. 

Oscar. I cannot see what you want with me. 

Morton. What is your business ? 

Oscar. I mind my own business. 

Morton. I mean what is your profession ? 

Oscar. Oh — ah, can't you see by my looks, 
That I'm a man who writes books ! 
The world by this time should know it 
That Oscar is a poet. 

Morton. Exactly. But before you commenced to write 
poetry were you not a scene-shifter at the Old Drury Theatre ? 

Oscar. Why seekest thou to humble my pride ? 

Know you not, that all men e'er they stem the tide 
And their struggle for life doth fairly begin, 



60 

Can trace themselves to lowly origin, 
But when men reach the realms of fame 
They will not own their humble name. 

Morton. But you do not answer my question. 

Oscar. Listen low, I'll breathe it soft, 
Once on a time I'd mount aloft, 
And 'mid the flies a lifting, 
Or countless scenes a shifting — 
I humbleth myself. 

Morton. Then you admit that you were a scene-shifter at 
the Old Drury. 

Oscar. Ay, verily, I can deny it not. 

Morton. Were you engaged there in 1872 ? 

Oscar. Ay, truly, for in February of that year the profession 
I quitted. 

Morton. Was Mr. Macready playing there in the early part 
of the month ? 

Oscar. Yea, up until a few days before the murder. 

Morto7i. What was he playing ? 

Oscar. Macbeth. 

Morton. Do you remember what became of the dagger used 
by him during the play ? 

Oscar. Yes sir. After the piece was withdrawn from the 
stage he left it in the property room. One day a friend of mine 
asked me if I would borrow a dagger for bim, as he wanted to 
use it in an amateur performance. 

Morton. Yes, yes, and you gave him that same dagger ? 

Oscar. How in the deuce did you know ? As Mr. Macready 
was then in jail and would not need it, I thought it would be no 
harm, so I let him have it. 

Morton. And what was the name of this man to whom )'ou 
gave Mr. Macready's dagger ? 

Darrell. He shall not answer the question. I tell you he 
shall not. I hadn't a thing to do with it. I — 

Judge. Keep quiet, your say will come after awhile. The 
witness must tell to whom he gave it. 

Oscar. [Pointing to Sharped To that man sitting there 
Paul Sharpe. 

Morton. Did you give it to him before or after the murder ? 

Oscar. After the murder. I know it positively, because Mr. 



61 

Macready was in jail at the time or I wouldn't have given it to 
him. [Oscar resumes seat.] 

Morton. Call Paul Sharpe. 

Crier. Paul Sharpe take the stand. [Sharpe obeys.] 

Morton. Mr. Sharpe, a little while ago you told us that you 
saw the prisoner at the bar commit this murder. How can you 
so positively identify him ? 

Sharpe. The deed was done directly under my window and 
I saw the murderer's face distinctly. 

Morton. Did the murdered man utter a cry for help ? 

Sharpe. Yes sir. I can never forget it. Oh, it was 
frightful to think that no one was there to help the poor fellow. 

Morton. Why you just said that you could recognize their 
faces, and as it was very dark you must have been close. 

Sharpe. Oh yes so I was : I could almost touch them. 

Morton. Then why didn't you go to his assistance ? 

Sharpe. I — I — that is, I didn't think of it. 

Morton. Ah, you heard heart-rending cries for help but you 
didn't think of it. Singular fact. Well, after you saw the murder 
committed what did you do ? 

Sharpe. I went in and shut the window. 

Morton. Shut the window ? So you were so greatly 
interested that you had previously raised the window to have a 
good look, eh ? 

Sharpe. I was so excited I hardly knew what I was doing. 

Morton. Well, after you shut the window what did you do ? 

Sharpe. I sat down and — and read the evening paper. 

Morton. Didn't you go out to see the crowd ? 

Sharpe. Yes — oh yes, I saw the crowd. 

Morton. Were you not a friend of Henry Page or Darrell at 
that time ? 

Sharpe. Yes sir, and he is as honorable a man as ever lived. 
I think as much of him as I would of a brother. 

Morton. And yet you allowed him to be arrested and tried 
for murder when you say you saw another man commit it. I 
would not give much for such a friend. 

Sharpe. Well, you see, after the murder I — I didn't get any 
chance to speak to him about it, and — and I was kind of fright- 
ened lest he'd be hung, and — 

Morton. And you'd be brought in as an accomplice. 



63 

Sharpe. No, not that, but — but you know law is very funny, 
very doubtful. 

Morton. Yes, you'll find it exceedingly "funny." Paul 
Sharpe, you visited Henry Page at the prison before the trial. It's 
no use trying to deny it ; I know you did. 

Sharpe. Well, was there any harm in that ? 

Morton. And at that time it was exceedingly doubtful whether 
he would be convicted, is it not so ? 

Sharpe. Yes, I admit it did look shaky for him. 

Morton. Yet you would not risk a cross-examination, even if 
by testifying to the truth you could save your friend's life. 

Sharpe. That's so, that's so, but I did help him all I could 
without that — 

Morton. Yes, you even borrowed Mr. Macready's dagger for 
him. 

Sharpe. No — no, that had nothing to with it. 

Morton. Then how came it to be found just outside of your 
gateway after the murder ? 

Sharpe. I — I threw it there. 

Morton. Ah, you did ; then the murder was not committed 
with this knife ? 

Sharpe. No, it was done with a Spanish poniard. 

Morton. How do you know that ? 

Darrell. {Springing to his feet.~\ He's a fool, he knows 
nothing about it. He lies, he lies — 

Judge. Silence, man, silence. 

Morton. How came the blood upon the knife ? 

Sharpe. I stabbed a dog with it. 

Morton. That will do. {Sharpe resumes seat.~\ Your 
Honor and gentlemen of the jury : To point out the 
value of this man's testimony plainly to you, allow me to 
remind you of certain facts. Lord Nordville was murdered on the 
night of February 17, 1872, and when the officers of the law 
reached the mangled body, two men were found leaning over the 
corpse, each vehemently accusing the other of the crime. One of 
these men was the prisoner at the bar and the other {pointing to 
Darrelf\ was yonder trembling wretch. They were both arrested 
and tried. Now it appears from the evidence just given that while 
they were in prison Page or Darrell entered into a conspiracy with 
this man Sharpe to throw the guilt upon Macready. They 
concocted a scheme to have his knife found near the scene of the 



63 

murder and have since so worked upon his mind that they have 
even made the prisoner himself believe in his own guilt. The 
testimony of Miss Franchise shows that Page had occasion to fear 
that Lord Nordville would prosecute him for forgery and this gave 
him a motive for the killing. The prisoner at the bar is innocent 
as sure as there is the true murderer this moment in the presence 
of this court. Crier call Henry Page alias Darrell. 

Crier. Henry Page take the stand. [Darrell obeys.'] 

Morton. Sirrah, you stand before a tribunal of your fellow- 
men. More than that, sirrah, you stand in the presence of 
Almighty God. Behold the prisoner at the bar — look him full in 
the face and tell me, is that the man who murdered Phillip Morton 
— Lord Nordville ? 

Darrell. I swear that — that he — he — 

Morton. Stop — in Heaven's name do not further perjure 
yourself. Remember you have sworn to speak the truth, remember 
your words may add another murder to your crimes, remember 
that though you swear a million times that that man murdered 
Nordville, I, his brother, will never rest until I have hounded down 
the real murderer into a felon's grave. As I loved my brother, so 
am I determined that his death shall be avenged. God has 
given me a double vision, and I see behind your wretched mask. 
Here before this court I defy you to say that you are not his 
assassin. 

Darrell. He persecuted me — he would have condemned me 
to a convict's cell and — and — 

Morton. With murder in your heart you left his office 
determined to kill him. 

Darrell. I— I— 

Morton. Wretch, do not dare to utter a word of excuse. 
Like a fiend you followed him. You saw Macready, crazed by 
excitement and drink, stagger up against him and strike at him • 
then as quick as thought you sprang between them, and you 
stabbed — him — stabbed ; I say you stabbed my brother ! 

Darrell. You guess rightly. I did murder him. I did try 
to fasten the guilt upon Macready. But bah ! What are you 
going to do about it ? I defy you. I defy the law. 

[Prosecuting Attorney commences to write rapidly^] 

Morton. Listen, your Honor, listen to that, hear him ! A 
man who has been proven to have committed the most despicable 
crime known, has the audacity to come into this courtroom for the 



64 

extreme purpose of seeing an innocent man sentenced, and now 
stands here and defies the law. Ah, Macready spoke most truly — 
justice is dead. 

Darrell. Ha, ha. It's a poor rule that won't work both 
ways. Good-day, Judge, good-day, gentlemen of the jury. I'm 
a murderer but you cannot try me twice for the same offense. Ta, 
ta. My regards, Mr. Morton. {Starts to go.~\ 

Prosecuting Attorney. Officers, detain him. While we 
cannot again try him upon the same indictment, I have just 
prepared one upon which we can. Recollect your Honor he was 
formerly indicted for the murder of Lord Nordville. I now claim 
you have a right to commit him upon the separate and distinct 
charge of an attempt to murder Junius Macready, the prisoner, and 
also upon the separate count of perjury. 

Judge. Write out his commitment. 

Darrell. . I — I protest. I am not guilty. I — 

Judge. Away with him, away with him ! And as for his 
villainous colleague, Paul Sharpe, he is an accomplice after the 
crime, and commit him also. [Exit officers with Sharpe and 
Darrell.~] Now, gentlemen of the jury what say you, is the 
prisoner at the bar guilty or not guilty ? 

Foreman of Jury. Not guilty. [All, including Judge, 
congratulate Macready as the curtain descends."] 



ACT IV. 



Scene. — The Garde?i of Donald Morton. Rustic Seats 
Right and Left. Fence with Gateway Centre. Doorway Left. 
Enter Sutherland. 

Sutherland. Fool that I am, why do I haunt this spot ? 
Twenty times have I vowed never to come near here again and 
every time I have broken my resolution. And why? Why 
because I love these very pebbles I tread upon, for her foot has 
touched them ; because when I look upon those rustic benches I 
imagine I see her seated upon them singing as merrily as the 
birds ; because everything here seems to speak in eloquence of 
Zaidee, charming Zaidee. My heart throbs in ecstacy when I am 
near her, and when I leave I am miserable. I love her, oh, I adore 



65 

her, yet I dare not tell her ! She's an heiress, beautiful, loved and 
courted, the world before her is offering its rarest charms which 
seem all the brighter if she compares the present and the 
future with the darkness of her past. Though I am rich there 
should be something more than riches and a loving heart to give 
in return for such a treasure as Zaidee, darling Zaidee. [Seats 
himself upon rustic seat.~] How industriously these ants are toiling. 
See that one staggering under the weight of a piece of bread crumb 
twice his size, which nevertheless, he's moving. He stops. He is at 
the entrance of his home. He peers down. "Is Mrs. Ant 
withins ?" he asks. "Yes.'' Now she comes out ready to help 
him with his burden. They all disappear, and no doubt the little 
ants below the ground are having quite a feast. Even these tiny 
creeping insects have their loves, their homes, their families, some 
one to share their burdens. How happy and contented 
they seem ? Not one of them off by himself moping and sighing 
over his troubles. Yet here am I, a giant compared with them, 
one movement of my foot would crush a thousand, and I am so 
miserable. If I could but see one spark of hope that my affection 
might some day be returned I'd bide my time and be the happiest 
of mortals, but bah, 'tis folly, Zaidee can never love me. Once she 
promised that if I would do all in my power to save poor 
Macready she'd give her consent to marry me. I kept my word 
and he was acquitted. What has been the result ? Zaidee says 
she will become my wife if I am cruel enough to compel her to 
keep her promise when she doesn't want to. No, no, a thousand 
times no ! She is free. I would rather die of a broken heart than 
drag an unwilling bride to the altar. If there is a hell on earth it 
is to be found in the abode of all those who marry for any other 
reason than love — unconquerable love. I will go — go where ? 
Anywhere. It don't make any difference, so that I'm away from 
here. Goodbye old rustic bench, goodbye ; hope, goodbye. 
\_/s about to leave sorrowfully. Enter Macready^] 

Macready. By Caesar's ghost, it's Sutherland! Why, old 
boy, how are you ? You look ready for a funeral. 

Sutherland. I feel like one. 

Macready. Hope nothing serious has happened. Have any 
of your family died ? 

Sutherland. No. 

Macready. Possibly a slight attack of spring fever. 

Sutherland. No. 



66 

Macready. Then hold out your tongue. Let's feel your 
pulse. Yes, yes, 'tis 'tis, I'm sorry to say — 

Sutherland. What ? 

Macready. The worse case of the worse disease in the whole 
category of medical science. 

Sutherland. Do not trifle with me. I'm perfectly well. 

Macready. But not here. [ Touching his heart ] Suther- 
land, my boy, you are in love. I know it by yond blush beneath 
your gills, I know it by your sighs of different sizes, I know it by 
your wrinkled, troubled brow, and I know it by the expression on 
your face which suggest " for-two-cents-I'd-go-drown-myself." 
Yes, Sutherland, you are in love. 

Sutherland. But — 

Macready. But hold on. I know more. I know who the 
fortunate young lady is. It's Zaidee, Miss Zaidee. And what's 
more, you are very foolish to sigh over her. 

Sutherland. Why, why, in mercy speak ! Do you mean she 
loves another, that my affection is hopeless, that she would spurn 
me, that she — 

Macready. Hold on, for goodness sake hold on ! I 
mean nothing of the kind. On the contrary, Ernest Sutherland, 
I would congratulate you. Your love is reciprocated. 

Sutherland. Bah, how know you this ? 

Macready. Because she told me so. 

Sutherland. You jest with me. 

Macready. No, 'tis true. She visited me while in prison and 
told me that you had captured her heart. 

Sutherland. But why does she treat me so cruelly ? 

Macready. Silly boy, do you not understand women 
yet ? Scowl at them and they smile in return, smile at them and 
they call you soft and turn away disgusted, get on your knees 
before them and swear that you are willing to lay down your life 
for their sake and they will not believe you, treat them with indif- 
ference and they will do their utmost to bring you to their feet 
Once win a woman through your own independence or through 
her jealousy and you have her forever. I tell you Sutherland, 
indifference before marriage pays. 

Sutherland. And how about after marriage ? 

Macready. Ah, then it is different. If a man wants to break 
his poor wife's heart, if he wants to make his home miserable, if he 
wants to drive out every spark of joy and happiness from life, let 



67 

him be indifferent to his wife. We can afford to be independent 
to our sweethearts until they become our wives, but after that we 
should both be as necessary, the one to the "other, as the sunshine 
is to vegetation. 

Sutherland. And so you think if I assume an indifferent 
don't-care air towards Zaidee she'll finally give in ? 

Macready. I have not the slightest doubt of it. She loves 
you already, so the battle will be easily won. Ah, I see her 
coming now. 

Sutherland. Yes, yes, there she comes, skipping along as 
merrily as a whippoorwill. God bless her little bright eyes ! But, 
but I cannot see her now. I could not play my part. Oh, 
Macready, how can I ever even pretend to be indifferent to her ? 

Macready. I will make the task easy for you. Go now, and 
when you return all will be well ; only seem to have so much busi- 
ness on hand that you cannot think of anything else. Understand ? 

Sutherland. Yes, yes, I will try. 

Macready. Hurry along, then, she's almost here. 

Sutherland. Good-day, and may Heaven grant that your 
ruse will at least secure one sweet smile from darling Zaidee. 
\_Exit Sutherland^ 

Macready. How unnecessarily miserable that fellow is. 
Sighing for an ace when he has a full hand. Crying of disap- 
pointed love, when Zaidee fairly adores him. Oh, well, every- 
where we go we find two kinds of fools, the one sighing for that 
which they cannot get and the other sighing for that which they 
already have. Love is like tomato sauce, not good if too sweet 
and needing a little spice to make it savory ; love is like money* 
but little thought of and quick to fly away if easily obtained, but 
awfully precious if 'tis hard earned ; love is like diamonds because 
it is treasured above rubies ; like Heaven, because of its sweet 
harmony ; like Paradise, for 'tis an Eden without the serpent. In 
fact, love is like God, because it is the spirit which He breathed 
into us. Sweet task it is to reconcile two persons who are really 
fond the one of the other. [Enter Zaidee .] 

Zaidee. Oh, Mr. Macready, I'm overjoyed to see you here. 
I hurried awfully fast when I caught a glimpse of you from yonder 
field where I've been gathering these lovely daisies. But — but I 
thought I saw some one with you, that is, ah — yes — that is — 

Macready. You mean Mr. Sutherland. 

Zaidee. Yes, yes, Mr. Sutherland — Erny. Where has he gone? 



Macready. Well, the fact is, you see Miss Zaidee, Mr. Suth- 
erland is overcrowded with business. He has really more than he 
can attend to, so he stopped up here to get me to tell you that he 
agreed with you precisely about your, your — excuse me — your 
marriage. 

Zaidee. Mr. Macready. what do you mean? 

Macready. Yes, yes, your marriage. He told me that he is 
quite glad that you refuse to name a wedding day. That his 
business has recently taken a boom and 'twill be impossible for 
him to even spare time to get married for at least a year, and that — 

Zaidee. [Impatiently .] Well, well, what else did the nasty 
hateful thing say ? 

Macready. That, that all things considered, if it will be all 
the same to you, that is, he would like if — if — 

Zaidee. Oh, go on, don't talk so slow ! 

Macready. He suggested that as long as he had become so 
attached to his business, maybe that the engagement too had better 
be put off indefinitely. 

Zaidee. What ! did the horrid, hateful thing tell you that ? 
Oh, what will I do ! Did he say he doesn't love me any 
more ? 

Macready. No, not exactly. But he thought that he could 
overcome his affection by devoting himself to business. At 
first he vowed by all the lover's oaths e'er heard of that he would 
off and kill himself, he swore that you were necessary to his exist- 
ence, that without you life would be to him a hell, that you had 
spurned him and he wanted to die. 

Zaidee. Yes, yes, bless his heart ! He didn't 'speck I was 
only funning though, did he ? 

Macready. No, so I tried to persuade him out of his foolish 
notions. I told him you were a young, frivolous girl and not having 
seen anything of life yet, did not know your own heart, that it was 
very foolish for him to think that you would marry the first man 
who asked you. 

Zaidee. I don't know if you ought to have said all that. 

Macready. Then I told him to drive you out of his thoughts- 
To try to forget that any such person ever lived. He raved and 
swore that he never could, that you were the ideal of his soul, the 
empress of his heart — 

Zaidee. Yes, yes, and what did you do then ? 

Macready. I drew his mind off on to business. I told him 



69 

that by devoting himself constantly to his profession he could soon 
forget you. He at last consented to try, and strange as you may 
think it, told me to day that he is succeeding splendidly. Ah 
Zaidee, you have a true friend in me, for through my kind fatherly 
assistance Ernest Sutherland will never trouble you again. 

Zaidee. You're a crazy good for nothing meddler, that you 
are ! Oh, how I hate you, nasty meany ! I almost wish you'd 
been hung when you nearly had the rope around your neck. 

Macready. Oh Zaidee, Zaidee, please don't remind me of 
that ! I— 

Zaidee. Forgive me, oh, please forgive me ! I didn't mean 
it. But, but now 'fess you were awful mean to go and drive Erny 
away. Oh ! Mr. Macready, you don't know how much I love him, 
I think about him night and day, and I only tried to fool him by 
making out I don't want to marry him just to get him to vow and 
vow and vow, and plead, and plead, and plead.* 

Macready. Then I certainly have made a mistake. What 
shall I do ? 

Zaidee. Why run and catch up with him. Tell him I love 
him more'n he loves me. 

Macready. That will never do. Reconciliation on either side 
must be gradual, i will see that he returns here in a little while, 
but you had better keep up your indifference until you are 
convinced that you and he are drifting apart. 

Zaidee. Helloh, who's all this a' coming down the road ? 
Why, bless my eyes if tain't Czarwinski and all the folks ! 

Macready. You are right, but see, they are in holiday attire. 

Zaidee. I'm awful glad they're coming 'cos it'll give me a 
chance to flirt with Oscar and so make Ernest jealous. Don't fail 
to have him here. 

Macready. No fear of that. \_Enter Czarwinski, Miss Fran- 
chise, Oscar, auxiliary cranks, efc.~\ 

Czarwinski. Forward, march ! Halt ! We are here. 

Franchise. So I perceive. 

Oscar. [ To Zaidee .] 

Can it be possible ? Can it be true ? 

That such a sweet garden belongs unto you ? 

Zaidee. No, not 'zactly, you see this is Uncle Donald's 
country seat, I am only sojourning here until my town mansion 
can be put into order. 

Macready. I am delighted to meet you all again. If you'll 



-70 

excuse me a few minutes I'll return with our mutual friend, Suth- 
erland. 

Miss Franchise. As spokesman for this party, I tell you, you 
can go sir, you can go. \_Exit Macready.~] Now Miss Zaidee 
Morton this delegation, of which I have the honor to be president 
(Czarwinski, keep still) waits upon you in behalf of the down- 
trodden members of the female sex. 

Zaidee. Oh, pshaw ! I thought this was only a sociable 
visit. 

Czarwinski. So it is, my child, so it is. 

Franchise. Will you hush up ! It was agreed that I should 
do the talking. Zaidee, where's your uncle ? [Enter Morto?i.~] 

Zaidee. Here he is. 

Franchise. Ah, Mr. Morton, you are an eloquent man. You 
are one whose words burn into the hearts of an audience like coals 
of fire. But sir, but sir, you are a man, and being a man, have 
your prejudices against our sex. 

Morton. I assure you ma'am I have none. 

Franchise. Oblige me by not interrupting. You should use 
your talents, sir, where they will do the most good. You find that 
at the present day one-half the human race is enslaved ; you find 
that women are oppressed, and it is your duty, sir your duty, to 
join your voice with mine in the glorious battle cry of freedom. 

Morton. Permit me a word, madam. I know that it is useless 
to argue with women, but as a lawyer, I would remind you of the 
fact that both in this country and in America women are better 
protected and more anxiously cared for than men. For instance, 
a married woman can give her promissory note, can contract 
debts and never pay them, can make her husband settle for her 
purchases or else avoid paying altogether, for she has only to hide 
behind the law and say to the tradesman she has robbed: "touch me 
if you dare, I'm a married woman and the law protects me." 
Again a single woman has advantages ; if a man promises 
to marry her she can make him come up to time by a suit of 
breach of promise, but who ever heard of a jury giving damages 
where a man is the plaintiff in such case ! Women can ride in the 
street cars and set down, a luxury some of us poor men have not 
known for years ; they can keep their hats on at the theatres ; they 
can control the average jury by a simple smile — in fact, women 
instead of being down-trodden have a thousand and one advan- 



71 

tages over men. I have no desire to argue the question with you, 
madam. 

All together. Bravo ! Bravo ! 

Franchise. I don't care — it's mean and cowardly, for you to 
say all these horrid things about us poor frail creatures. We — 

Zaidee. Oh dry up and blow away ! Come let's have a song. 
{Song or other diversity. Enter two officers.] 

ist Officer. Beg pardon, ladies and gentlemen, but we are 
officers of the law. in search of two felons who escaped from the 
old Bailey last night. 

Franchise. Mercy sakes, will this lawing never end ? 

ist Officer. They were seen to come this way. Have you 
noticed any suspicious looking strangers ? 

2d Officer. One's a tallish looking fellow with * * coat and 
* * pants, the other is * * and has * *. They're a dangerous pair. 

Morton. We have seen nothing of them. But tell me, what 
are their names ? 

ist Officer. Henry Darrell and Paul Sharpe. 

Zaidee. {Aside.~] That's just like Dad, he's 'scaped. 

2d Officer. But we can't reckon much on their names, sir, 
they have so many aliases. 

Morton. We will watch out for them. Good day, officers, 
if they come this way we'll do our best to detain them. 

Officers. Thank you, sir, thank you. {Exit.'] 

Zaidee. 1 tells you what Dad's one slippery eel. 

Morton. My child why do you persist in calling that villainous 
Darrell, "Dad ?" 

Zaidee. I don't knowv I 'speck it's cos I'm used to it. I 
say uncle, I know that Dad — I mean Mr. Dar — I mean Darrell — 
'san awful bad man, I know he nearly had poor Mr. Macready 
hung, but nevertheless, when I think of all the days when he fed 
me, and fed me, and fed me, I kinder feel a little sorry for him. 

Morton. But you told me that he ill treated you — that he beat 
you. 

Zaidee. I know he did and awful hard too. I've bruises all 
over my back that will never go away which he and Mam gave me, 
but no matter, it seems to me that if a little child would live with 
the old Devil himself for years and years and years, always calling 
him Dad, Dad, Dad, and believing that he really was Dad, that 
child would grow fond of him, though he fed it upon molten lead. 
Tho' we may get used to people and not love them, still we feel 



72 

towards them a something that makes us hate to see them suffer, 
I hope Dad won't be caught. 

Morton. Hush my child, you should not speak so. He is a 
desperate criminal, and if it is my good fortune to be able to slop 
his flight, I certainly will turn him over to the law. He murdered 
my brother and I am determined that he shall be punished for his 
crime. Ah, here's Mr. Macready and Mr. Sutherland. I will 
leave you. \_Exit Morton. Enter M. and S.~\ 

Sutherland. Ah, Miss Franchise, I am charmed, Czarwinski 
how are you ? Oscar, glad to see you, [etc.,"] and Zaidee, too, I — 

Zaidee. Since I am the last you notice p'raps you had better 
call me Miss Zaidee, Mr. Sutherland. 

Sutherland. Excuse me, ah then, Miss Zaidee. [Aside to 
Zaidee.~) I suppose Macready has told you of my resolution ? 

Zaidee. Yes he has, and I am very glad to see that you are 
gradually getting a little sense. 

Sutherland. Thank you, Miss. I am sorry I cannot return 
the compliment. 

Zaidee, [Aside to Oscar.~] Ah Oscar, dear, you were 
speaking of taking me out boating on the lake, I shall certainly be 
delighted. 

Oscar. But I said nothing about — 

Zaidee [Aside to Oscar.] Be quiet, fool, of course you did. 
[Aloud.~\ I am sure that we will have a snoptious time. 

Oscar. 'Twill be charming I'm sure. 

Zaidee. Do you remember when we were boys, Osc ? Oh, 
didn't we have a jolly time when Dad and Mam would go out and 
we'd be all alone. Oh, cracky — 

Oscar. Oh those halcyon days, ne'er will I forget, 
Those days of long ago ; 
When you and I would fuss and fret, 
And then make up you know. 

Zaidee. Yes, my ! but it was snice. Maybe maybe, we can 
repeat those scenes and live over the past. If I only could ! Do 
you know Oscar, I'd give up all these riches, all these fashions 
and furbeloes, everthing and everybody, simply to live once more 
that sweet existence, when you and I were ever together. 

Oscar. Oh, this rapture, oh, this bliss, 

Reminds me of your charming kiss. 



73 

Zaidee. Yes, yes, that day in the parlor. Oh my ! wasn't it 
scrumptuous though ! Never mind Oscar, you needn't sigh, you 
know what the good old hymn says. 

Oscar. No. 

Zaidee. "Still there's more to follow." 

Sutherland. [Aside to Macreac'y."] This is too much, it 
will break my heart. The idea of that fool — 

Macready. [Aside to Sutherland^ Keep your patience my 
boy, keep your patience. Helloh! here comes Mrs. Darrell. Ah, 
happy thought. You knew her before her marriage, gently 
remind her of the fact, and do it with a deep friendly interest. 

Sutherland. I understand. [Enter Mrs. Darrell.} Mrs. 
Darrell we are charmed to see you. I am so glad you came, 
for we wish to assure you that we do not connect you in the 
slightest with the rascality of your husband. 

Mrs. D. Ah, thank you, Mr. Sutherland. 

Franchise. I agree with him, and it was at my earnest 
request that you were invited thither. 

Mrs. D. You are too kind. And what says my little one, 
Zaidee ? 

Zaidee. I ain't so glad, for in my 'pinion you are just as bad 
as Dad. I hate you. 

Sutherland. Don't mind her, ma'am. From the experience 
you have had with her you know that she is at times very irritable. 

Zaidee. I didn't think you'd be the first one to find fault with 
me. I — I — 

Sutherland. My child don't you see that I desire to 
to converse with this lady ? Besides, Mr. Oscar is waiting. 

Zaidee. Oh yes, so he is. But Ernest Sutherland, don't you 
dare to say anything about me. 

Sutherland. Humph ! there's no danger, you are foreign to 
my thoughts just now. Ah, dear Mrs. Darrell, speaking of your 
unfortunate marriage reminds me of those happy days when I was 
a frequent visitor at your old home. 

Mrs. D. Yes, that was before I knew Darrell. 

Sutherland. True, and I think it was certainly the 
happiest period in my life. Do you remember any of the old 
songs you used to sing ? 

Zaidee. No she don't remember any of the old song she used 
to sing. She never had any more voice than a crocus. The old 



74 

cat ! Oh Erny, how could you — I mean Oscar — come along Oscar, 
we will leave them. \_Exit Zaidee and Oscar. ~\ 

Mrs. D. The child seems to be in a bad humor. Alas ! 
poor Zaidee, she never had a good disposition. 

Sutherland. Madam, hush up ! I will allow no one to say 
anything against Zaidee. Her temper is as sweet as a May 
morning, although your cruel treatment was enough to kill the 
poor child. If you say another word against her I will forget 
madam, that you are a woman and will treat you as I would a man. 
[Exit Sutherland^ 

Mrs. D. This is strange conduct indeed. One moment 
he's all smiles and so sweet that he'd melt in your mouth, and the 
next he's ready to snap your head off. I can't understand. 

Franchise. That's because he's a man. All men are just like 
him. An inconsistent, inconsiderate, incompatible, incongruous 
and incomprehensible set. I tell you we mustn't pay any more 
attention to them than if they were — What's that, dear Mr. 
Czarwinski, did you speak ? 

Czarwinski. No, madam. 

Franchise. Ah, beg pardon, I thought you did. If 
there's anything I can do for you, don't hesitate to mention it. 
Ah, as I was saying Mrs. Darrell, men should be treated with silent 
contempt. They treat us as though we were nothing — we should 
act towards them as though they were less. 

Mrs. D. I'm too mortified for anything — let's go inside. 

Franchise. Agreed. [Exit Mrs. Darrell and Franchise.] 

Czarwinski. Night's coming on and Darrell may make good 
his escape. Who would have thought that in so short a time a 
man of his standing would become a fleeing felon, but such is his 
reward. What a cloak fanaticism throws around villainy. I 
thought that man a patriot ; I find him a murderous scoundrel, 
caring nothing for his country — his only aim being to get money by 
fair means or foul. I have made up my mind to renounce Nihilism 
and become a law-abiding citizen, for it makes but little difference 
to the people themselves whether they be governed by a Czar or a 
President. Any government is better than anarchy. [Enter 
Zaidee .] 

Xaidee. Ah, I say, Mr. Czarwindowsty (I can never get your 
name right) have you seen Mr. Sutherland ? 

Czarwinski. I thought he went into the house with you. 

Zaidee. No, I've looked in every crook and corner for him. 



75 

He's not there. Now, you're a friend of mine, Czarsky, so you 
wouldn't mind slippping over towards Greenwich to look for him 
him — it's only eleven miles. 

Czarwinski. But I might miss him. 

Zaidee. That's so, but go. I must see him. I want to — I 
want to — . Oh can't you understand ? Why do you hesitate ? 
Oh, please go find him ! 

Czarwinski. Why not wait till to-morrow ? 

Zaidee. Wait till to-morrow, when I feel like crying my very 
eyes out ! No, no, no, I cannot wait. I must see him to-night. 
It's important, and — and you know what the man in the book says, 
"To-morrow never comes." See it's now nearly dark, but he can't 
be far away — oh, pity me and go ! 

Czarwinski. I will try to find him. \_Exit.~\ 

Zaidee. And may Heaven bless you ! What a silly girl I am ! 
But I guess all other girls are just like me. We think when 
we've got a fellow on a string we can turn him down just to suit 
our own convenience, and then when we want him ag'in all we've 
got to do is pull the string and yank him back. I thank goodness 
Erny is not one of the yankable kind. Poor fellow, I did treat him 
awfully, letting that idiot Oscar get sweet on me right afore him. If 
he only returns I'll make it all right with him. Yes siree, I'll make 
it solid if I have to marry him before immediately to get even with 
him. I wonder if he does care anything for that cross-eyed-bow- 
legged package of skin-and-bones, Mammy Darrell ! I could tear 
her eyes out for looking so sickening at him. Helloh ! here comes 
somebody. I'll bet it's Erny. Someone's with him. 'Speck it's 
Czarsky. What're they creeping along so for ? Maybe to 
'sprise me. I'll hide behind here and scare 'em. {Stands dack.~\ 
{Enter Darrell and Sharped 
Darrell. My God is there no rest ! I tell you Sharpe, it's no 
use trying to escape. The sooner we give ourselves up the better. 
Imprisonment — even death — is preferable to this continual hiding 
and dodging from the law ; afraid to ask for work, afraid to beg 
even for a cup of water. What will we do ? 

Sharpe. Blest if I know. I was a fool to join you in your 
jail-breaking scheme. I'm sure we were more comfortable in our 
snug prison cells than here tramping about the country afraid of our 
own shadows. 

Darrell. But I thought we could escape to America. 

Sharpe. Escape and no money ! Bah, 'twas folly. I tell you 



76 

Darrell, if a man has money he can do anything, accomplish 
anything, but without it he is without everything. Even in the 
prison from which we have just escaped, its influence is felt. The 
other morning I heard the Turnkey say to the Warden "There's 
another prisoner waiting below." "Show him to one of the lower 
cells," answered the warden. You see that's where they keep 
common prisoners like us. "But" said the Turnkey, "The 
prisoner was a bank cashier and is accused of embezzling ,£50,000.' ' 
"Ah," answered the Warden, "In that case give him a suite of 
rooms in the second story front and order his meals from a restau- 
rant." 

Darrell. And you heard that ! 'Tis true, money then even 
if it cannot unlock prison doors makes the prison itself more 
comfortable. Money — who can measure its power ? 'Tis the key 
to our consciences, for, for its sake men will stoop to any crime ; 'tis 
the enemy of justice, for by its power 'tis easy to hoodwink the 
law ; 'tis a cruel master for he who worships at its shrine sacrifices 
without begrudging, honor, truth and life ; 'tis a frivolous friend 
that flitteth away when most we need it ; ah, money is omnipotent! 

Sharpe. Moralizing is all very well in its way, but just now we 
need something a little more satisfying. The cops may bounce 
upon us at any moment; we must keep low. Darrell, we are 
almost starving, for we are without the filthy — I mean money, the 
king you were talking about, what say you to crack this crib ? 

Darrell. What, rob — rob — you ask me to rob ? 

Sharpe. Yes, why not. It's either that, starvation or prison. 
Quick let us to work. 

Darrell. No, stop. I have forged, I have murdered, and 
there is no crime of which I am innocent ; but I tell you now, that 
the days of Henry Page the thief, the murderer, are over : Hence- 
forth I intend to be honest. 

Sharpe. Ha, ha! You're rather late in the day commencing 
with your Sunday School resolution. The idea of a murderer, a 
fleeing assassin, talking of honesty and reformation. Bah ! It is 
ridiculous. 

Darrell. Nevertheless I intend to try and — 

Sharpe. Starve. Henry Darrell you're a fool. Don't you 
know that a man who has committed a crime is regarded by the 
world as one who has a loathsome disease ? They do not think of 
crime as curable, and no matter how earnestly a man who has once 



77 

offended may afterwards strive to live honestly and uprightly the 
world will never receive him again. 

Darrell. And in that it is most just. 

Sharpe. True enough, but what's the use reforming ? We 
are hounded for crime, we must live by crime. Honest people will 
spurn us ; we are accursed ; we must make the best of the circum- 
stances ; so come — 

Darrell. I will not. 

Sharpe. Then I'll do the job alone. \_Exit Sharped 

Darrell. Let him go, he will be caught ; and if he is not — 
if he is not ! he shall not escape from here with his plunder. Not 

if I can help it. 

Zaidee. [Advancing. ,] Or "Me-too," Dad. 

Darrell. What, Zaidee — his child — you here ? No, no, 'tis 
some spirit. Oh, have mercy, have mercy ! 

Zaidee. I'm none o' your white-washed ghosts, it's me, real 
rightly me. An' what's more Dad, I heard all you were saying to 
that rascal of a cove. 

Darrell. You did, eh — you did ? And will give us up ? 

Zaidee. No, no, 'cos Dad, 'cos those words you just spoke 
were the first honest ones I ever heard you say. I believe they 
come right from your heart, and I'm going to give you a chance. 

Darrell. What — you, you the child I wronged, abused, 
ill-treated ! It cannot be that you are in earnest. 

Zaidee. Yes I am Dad, yes I am. You did lick me rather 
oftener than I thought there was any necessity for, but I forgive 
you. I haven't the slightest hard-feeling ag'in, you 'cepting your 
treatment of Mr. Macready. 

Darrell. But — 

Zaidee. There's no buts about it. In course, I feel hard 
ag'in' you for poor father's sake, but then I never knew him. You 
were all the Dad I ever knew. If I get you out of this scrape you 
must make me a solemn promise. 

Darrell. Yes, yes, I'll promise anything. 

Zaidee. No, no, I don't want that kind. If you can't promise 
me from the bottom of your heart and of your own free will, please 
don't promise at all. 

Darrell. Speak on, my child, name your condition. 

Zaidee. Get down on your knees. Look up yonder at those 
bright stars shining in the heavens : God's up there and I want 
Him to witness what we're saying. 

Darrell. Yes, but I'm too guilty — too guilty. 



78 

Zaidee. Hush — no you're not ! No one is but Sharpe, he's 
too far gone for anything. Now solemnly swear that you will try 
your best to live a better life to atone for your past crimes. 

Darrell. I do, I do, as Heaven is my witness. 

Zaidee. Then I will help you. 

Sutherland. [Outside in a quarrelsome tone ] I am deter- 
mined to have satisfaction. How dare you speak to her ? 

Oscar. My dear, sir, be calm, don't get excited. You know 
she is an old playmate. She — 

Sutherland. I'll have you understand that * * * [Etc.'] 

Zaidee. Hist ! that's Erny and Oscar, they may come this 
way. Go call Sharpe. [Darrell obeys. Enter Sharped They 
must not see you now. There, there, conceal yourselves, but 
don't go far away. Remember, you have my promise. I will 
help you both to escape to America. There, hide ! When I give 
a low whistle like that [whistles] come forward. 

Darrell. We will trust you. [Exit D. and S.] 

Zaidee. Here's a lark ! Now, how to work it. [Enter Suth- 
erland and Oscar.] 

Oscar. I apologize. I apologize. I — 

Sutherland. Bother your apologies, there's no satisfaction in 
them. Apologies were invented for cowards. 

Oscar. Then you are determined to fight. 

Sutherland. I an determined to have satisfaction. 

Oscar. Then excuse me if I become unpoetical in my excite- 
ment. Dang my eyes, you shall have it ! [Rolling up his sleeves.] 
You will be sorry for this. 

Sutherland. Not until I have punished you. There take 
that. 

Oscar. And that, and that. 

Zaidee. [Separating them.] Gentlemen, gentlemen ! I am 
shocked. This is like school boys or ruffians. 

Oscar. He made me fight. I didn't want to. I — 

Sutherland. He had no business to talk as he did to you. I'll 
be revenged or — 

Zaidee. What have you to do with it, anyway ? Has not our 
engagement been indefinitely postponed ? 

Sutherland. Yes. All on acconnt of him. 

Zaidee. No. All on account of your own request. 

Sutherland. What, my request ? Oh, my darling, how 
could you imagine such a thing ? 



79 

Zaidee. Then you did not say those awful things to Mr. 
Macready ? 

Sutherland. I told him you were the sweetest being that ever 
lived and that you were killing me because you would not marry 
me. 

Zaidee. Ah ! I see through it all. And you were only 

pretending to care more for your business than for me ? 

Sutherland. Yes, yes ; and you'll forgive me ? 

Zaidee. With all my heart. Oh, Erny, I love you more 
than all the rest of the world put together and will gladly become 
your little wife. 

Oscar. That settles it. [Humming.'] 

"The marriage bells were ringing, 
What a joyous peal have they, etc." 

Zaidee. Then you really love me ? 

Sutherland. Need you ask me that when — 

Zaidee. I'll trust you for the rest. Will you do something 
for me, to prove your love ? 

Sutherland. Ask anything in the world. I would willingly 
lay down my life for you, darling. 

Zaidee. And you too, Oscar ? 

Oscar. Aye, verily ! No boon is too great to ask of me. 

Zaidee. I'm going to 'sprise you both. First, I want you to 
loan me some money. 

Sutherland. What ? When ? Money ? 

Zaidee. Yes, money. When? Now. Don't ask any ques- 
tions, but pan out. 

Sutherland. All that I have is yours. I have just drawn 
^500 from bank. How much do you need of it? Will a ^10 do ? 

Zaidee. No, you penurious youngster, I want it all. 

Sutherland. There certainly is some mystery. But never- 
mind, there fair highwayman, take all I have. [Hands her 
notes.] 

Zaidee. And Oscar, how much have you ? 

Oscar. I — I — the fact is, I've just made a deposit in the 
bank, I have only a two-shilling piece left. 

Zaidee. Then give me that. Gentlemen, I will repay this in 
the morning, but now I am going to ask you for something I 
cannot so easily return, but which I will try to duplicate. 

Oscar and Sutherland together. What do you mean ? 



80 

Zaidee. Like Jack Sheppard of old, I apologize before I rob 
you. Gentlemen, I demand your clothes. 

Sutherland. What ! Pshaw ! This is a joke. 

Zaidee. No, I am in dead earnest. Listen. Two poor 
creatures are hunted down by officers of the law ; they are ragged, 
hungry, penniless and friendless ; they came here fleeing for 
safety ; I have seen them — 

Sutherland. What, you — you have seen Darrell, Darrel 
the murderer ? 

Zaidee. Yes, I have seen Darrell. Call him what you please, 
to me he is a reformed man. 

Sutherland. Only let me get near him once, I'll tear him 
limb from limb. 

Taidee. No you won't. 

Sutherland. Why ? The black-hearted wretch ! 

Zaidee. Because you love me. I have promised to aid him 
escape and I will keep my word. He has sworn to lead a better 
life and I believe him. 

Sutherland. Bah ! 

Zaidee. Then sir, you who a moment ago professed to 
love me so dearly now will not do this much for me. There take 
your old money, I'll have none of it. 

Sutherland. Forgive me Zaidee, I — I will do just as you ask. 

Oscar. And I too, though it's awfully unpoetical. I hope you 
won't make us undress here, that is — 

Zaidee. Oh, no. [ Whistles signal.'] Fear not for modesty's 
sake. Ah, here're the men. [Enter D. and S.] I s'pose, Dad, 
you've heard all we've said. Mr. Sutherland and Mr. Wilde will 
retire with you to your hiding place, there you can all change 
clothing, after which please return and I will further assist you. 

Darrell. What can I say to show my gratitude ? 

Zaidee. Nothing, but go and do as I bid you. [Exit D. and 
S. S. and 0.~] So much for so much. This is a daisy racket. 
Jumping beeswax ! They just laid low in time : here comes the 
perlice. [Enter ist and 2d Officers^] 

1st Officer. I tell you I saw two men enter here. [Noticing 
Zaidee.] Ah, young miss, no doubt you are waiting for some fair 
gallant. 

Zaidee. Mind your business, sir, it's nothing to you for 
whom I am waiting. 

ist Officer. Beg your pardon. No offense, Miss, no offense 



; 1 

We were here a few minutes ago searching for escaped prisoners 
we thought we saw two men enter this garden. 

Zaidee. You are right, but they were Mr. Sutherland and Mr 
Wilde, friends of the family. So, get! bounce! the quicker the 
better. 

2d. Officer. May I ask if anyone else recently passed this 
way ? I notice several fresh footprints leading into the garden — 
one being made by a heelless shoe — may we search the premises ? 

Zaidee. No, no, go way, you frighten me. 

2d Officer. You have more reason to be alarmed at being 
here alone. Be kind enough to call the gentleman of the 
house. 

Zaidee. I will do nothing of the kind. If you're searching 
for a couple of tramps you're right, two did pass here less than ten 
minutes ago. They seemed to be in too much of a hurry even to 
ask for something to eat. 

ist Officer. Yes, yes, they're the very men we're after. 

2d Officer. Did one have a * * * 

Zaidee. Oh, I didn't 'zamine him. If you hurry up and 
follow that road mighty fast you'll catch 'em. [Pointing left. ~] 

ist Officer. But that's the way we came. 

Zaidee. Oh, I made a mistake, they ran down that way. 
[Pointing rights 

2d Officer. We'll soon have them. [Exit Officers^ 

Zaidee. Run on you fools, the faster you run the farther 
you'll get. * * * Hist there, are you ready ? 

Sutherland. [Outside 7\ All excepting Oscar. 

Oscar. I'm in an awful plight, these pants are very tight, I 
can't come out to-night. 

Sutherland. By jeminy, you are right. ! 

Oscar. Pshaw ! I've busted them quite. 

Zaidee. I hope that it is slight. But come along, there's not a 
moment to lose. [Enter Sutherland in Sharpens clothes, Oscar in 
DatrelVs, Darrell in Oscar's, and Sharpe in Sutherland's^ 

Oscar. Behold the Hungarian Quartette ! 

Sutherland. Let us proceed to warble. Holy Moses ! The 
officers are returning. 

Zaidee. So they are. Here, quick ! Oscar, Ernest, hide 
again. Dad, you and Sharpe must personate Oscar and Ernest. 
[Sutherland and Oscar conceal themselves.] Take this money, 
Dad. [Handing it to Darrell.'] You will need it. 'Tis enough 



82 

to pay for both your passages to the United States, where you can 
assume a new name and, 1 sincerely trust, live a new life. 

Darrell. Oh, how can I thank you ? 

Sharpe. Miss Zaidee I always thought my heart a stone but 
your goodness has melted it. I too, will lead a better life. 

Zaidee. Your promises amply repay me. I have given you 
liberty, and I only ask in return that some day I may have proven 
to me that I have not done wrong in aiding your escape. 

Darrell. You shall not be disappointed. Oh, my child — 

Zaidee. Hush, they come. Remember you are Oscar, the 
poet, and you are Sutherland. \_Enter Officers^ 

2d Officer. We were misled ; there's not a trace of foot-prints. 

Zaidee. Maybe they walked on their ears. 

\st Officer. [ Turning to D. and S.~] Are you the 
gentlemen who entered here five minutes ago. 

Darrell. We are. 

\st Officer. Did you notice any suspicious looking — 

Darrell. We noticed nothing. Stand aside, we must hurry 
along. Miss Zaidee, I bid you adieu. 

Sharpe. And I too. Take my advice, and tell these supposed 
officers to make themselves scarce. They may be impostors. 

Zaidee. Oh, I'll 'tend to them. Goodbye. [Exit D. and S.~] 
[ Turning to Officers^ We are not accustomed to having officers 
of the law about here. Do you desire to see Mr. Morton ? 

ist Officer. Oh no — that is, ah, yes. 

id Officer. Please tell him to step here one moment. 

Zaidee. I will call the whole household. [Exit Zaidee. ~] 

id Officer. Bill, there's something in the wind. Those 
fellows are hiding here somewhere, for we cannot trace that peculiar 
footprint a step further. 

ist Officer. You're right man, you're right. \_Enter Morton, 
Macready, Mrs. D. : Zaidee, Franchise, Cranks, etc.'] 

Morton. What's the matter, what's the matter ? 

Zaidee. Please, Uncle, these policemen say the place is full 
of buglers and robbers. 

Franchise. Oh, mercy me, what will I do ! I'm so afraid of 
a man. We poor women — 

ist Officer. Excuse me, mum, but we'll have to commence to 
search at once. 

Franchise. Search ? Search ? Search me ? What ? 

id Officer. No, not you, but the premises. 



83 

Macready. One moment. Officers you are looking for 
Henry Darrell ? 

ist and 2d Officers together. Yes, sir, we are. 

Macready. Then I will assist you. [Aside.] And if I find 
him I will save the law the trouble of punishing him. [Aloud.] 
Come ! Desire for vengeance will give me double sight. Come, 
follow me [Rushes off. Exit officers?] 

Franchise. Oh, Mr, Morton, Mr. Morton, catch me or I 
iaint. 

Morton. Bear up, madam, there's no danger. 

Franchise. I'm so nervous. All men are monsters, and that 
man Darrell is the monster of monsters. He has a special spite 
against me and I — 

Zaidee. Dry up ! you're putting all this on. You're a baby, 
so you are. [Enter Macready dragging Oscar in DarrelVs 
clothes, all torn, etc. .followed by officers with Sutherland ; prison- 
ers protesting?] 

Macready. I will show you no mercy. Be silent ! Wretch 
your life is mine ! [Shaking him.] I have sworn to be avenged 
and will keep my word. To cheat the gallows is not robbery. 

Morton. It is murder. 

Macready. Murder ! Do you call it murder for me to choke 
this miserable, contemptible scoundrel, this wretched assassin who 
tried to swear away my life ? If this is murder, what then is 
justice ? 

Oscar. [ Trying to speak.] I — I ain't. I tell you — 

Macready. Another word and I brain you. Heaven alone 
knows how I have suffered through the persecutions of this foul 
ruffian. He murdered my friend and then worked upon my imagi- 
nation until he made me suffer all the bitter pangs of guilt. Ah, 
vengeance is sweet, so sweet ! 

Sutherland. There is a mistake, we are not — 

ist Officer. It's no use for you trying to play that kind o' a 
game off on us, we're too old in the business. Come mate, on with 
the clippers. [Ha?idcuffs Sutherland, id Officer steps forward to 
do the same to Oscar.] 

Macready. Stand back, sir ! I claim this prisoner ! 
[Shaking him.] 

2d Officer. But sir, we are of the law, sir — the law. The 
majesty of the law — 

Macready. Majesty, indeed! I care nothing for it. I am willing to 



84 

lay down my life to wreak my vengeance upon this wretched cur. 
[Shaking hi7?i.~\ Ha, ha, the majesty of the law ! Tell me rather 
of the majesty of hell, for law is an iron-handed monster, whose 
majesty is its strength, not its inchoate wisdom. Look ye upon 
me ! See, my hair is white — 'tis not because of age, but from the 
persecution of this contemptible scoundrel, — my poor brain is 
shattered, my constitution wrecked, my hopes destroyed — think 
you law will give me justice ? No, no ; hanging is too good for a 
fiend incarnate like this. Come ! \_-Draggi?ig Oscar.'] I will give 
you a taste of a more bitter death. The first man who tries to 
stop me, dies. 

Zaidee. Hold, Mr. Macready ! Stop! At least allow 
him first to pray. 

Macready. I give him thirty seconds to make his peace 
with Him Whom he has robbed for forty years. Pray on, if you 
can. 

Oscar. Oh, Lord, [Aside. ~\ I never prayed before. 
[Aloud.] Oh, Lord, Thou knowest my name is Oscar, and if I — 

Macready. Oscar ! What ? Oscar ! 

Zaidee. Yes, look good at him. See, 'tis our own Oscar. 

Macready. 'Tis true, 'tis true, and I am cheated of my 
vengeance. 

Morton. Leave that to Him who judgeth the sins of the whole 
world. 

Zaidee. [ Turning to Sutherland.] And this poor miserable 
looking object is Mr. Sutherland, my much-abused Erny. Mr. 
Officer be kind enough to remove these uncomfortable bracelets. 

ist Officer. What is the meaning of all this? 

Zaidee. It means simply that jail-birds have strong, tireless 
wings, and that they have flown. 

id Officer. Ah, I see through the whole scheme. Those two 
fellows whom this young lady panned off to us as her friends are 
really our birdies. 

Zaidee. 'Zactly. So goodbye. 

\st Officer. But you aided in the escape, and — 

id Officer. Oh, pshaw ! We are losing time. Remember 
the reward ! Come ! [Exit Officers. 

Zaidee. [Aside.] Oh, jolly ! They've gone the wrong way. 
[Macready starts to follow officers.] Stop please, for my sake 
stop. If you care just a little bit for me, Mr. Macready, spare that 
man. He murdered my own father, but — but, if I can forgive him 



$5 

you certainly ought. He will live a better life; oh, please don't go ! 
Remember I used to call him Dad. 

Macready. Vox your sake, child, I will let the law take its 
course, but I'll never forgive him. 

Zaidee. Come folks, let's think no more of those horrid men. 
I've a piece of news for you aU ! I know Uncle's willing, so with 
his consent I introduce to you my future husband, Mr. Ernest 
Sutherland, S. K., Esquire, etc., etc. He ain't dressed very slick, 
but I love him more'n if he had the best clothes in the world on 
and I knew that through him bad old Dad was sent to prison. 

Macready. Zaidee is right, Zaidee is right ! I will try to 
forget the past and live on in the hope that there'll never be 
another Cranks' Retreat. 

Curtain. 



CRANKS* RETREAT 



A COMEDY-DRAMA 



IN FOUR ACTS, 



BY 



A PARLETf LLOYD. 

Author of "Drifting Alone; 1 etc., etc. 



Notice.— This Drama is printed, not published. The 
Author reserves the exclusive right of its production, and #ny 
infringement upon, his 'copyright either of the title or the text, 
will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Address all 
communications, to No. 44 Lexington 'St., Baltimore, Md. 



Copyright 1885. 



BALTIMORE; 
Oliver W. Clay & Co. (limited.) 

1885. 



-r 



